The Other Side of the Coin
by storyteller0318
Summary: This story begins in Season 6, Episode 13: what would have happened if Tara didn't die, but Gemma did? Either way, poor Eli is dead, and Jax and Tara are left to piece together the last moments of his mother's life. The question: who killed Gemma and Eli? What would've happened if Fate had played a different hand?
1. Chapter 1

Blood was splattered across the wall. Tara Knowles-Teller sat in the corner of her kitchen, emptily gazing out at the puddles of carnage that remained. Shock flooded her being. She still couldn't believe what had happened. Just a couple of hours ago, she'd been in Jax's arms. Now, she didn't know what the fuck to do.

"I can't let you go, Jax." They were sprawled naked together in the hotel room she'd just shared with the boys. They were in the capable hands of Bobby and Chibs, and even though SAMCRO was the beginning and end of everything she loved, she knew they'd die protecting her boys. Sheets haphazardly covered their naked bodies. She couldn't tell if she was clinging to him, or he was clinging to her. Maybe they were clinging to one another, praying for a miracle, even though they knew miracles didn't happen in Charming.

"You have to Tara. You have to let me go. For our boys and for yourself. I cannot bring you down. I cannot let our boys have this life. Not anymore." He gently kissed each knuckle on her hand. She looked up at him. _God, I love this man. I love him so much._ For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to be his Old Lady. _That's what broke my heart in the first place. _

"We don't have much time, Jax." It was the truth. The DA wanted him to turn himself before night's end. He still had to see Thomas and Abel. He still needed to say goodbye to SAMCRO. As much as she wanted to be selfish, she knew that, above all else, Jax was a man of honor. The months since Pamela Toric's murder had caused him to lose himself, but her husband's moral compass was right and whole again.

"I know." He bent to kiss her, and an electric fire lit within her belly. She needed him one more time. Her hands twined in his hair. His mouth kissed her slowly, stoking the flames. His mouth was liquid heat on the soft column of her throat as it moved to her breasts. She cried out with each touch, and she pulled his head back up and locked mouths once more.

He slid inside her easily. With Tara, it never took effort, even when they hated one another. He always longed to touch her, to love her, to explore the body he knew, inside and out, all over again. The time apart had been hell, and he knew that, if the DA got what she wanted, he'd have precious few moments like this anytime soon.

"Jackson, I love you." Her eyes met his, and he smiled a wicked grin.

"I love you Tara. More. Than. Anything." His hips found a wonderful, comfortable rhythm. She knew it well, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. After all this time, she still couldn't get enough. Her nails dug into his back as she climaxed, and he allowed himself the release he'd needed for so long. Tears streamed down their faces and mingled together as they kissed. At that moment, they were all that mattered. Their love was all that mattered.

A knock on the door startled them both.

"Uh, Jax…Tara…we should probably get going soon." Eli Roosevelt's voice penetrated the thin hotel room door. Wordlessly, Jax stood. Tara watched as he walked over to the bathroom. He turned and faced her. The anguish was palpable. Tara sobbed, but she caught herself.

"I'm getting a quick shower, Babe." She nodded. She sat up and covered herself with a sheet as she swung her legs over the bed and stood. Visions of their wedding day played in his head. His mind's eye reminded him of the moments that would be all but lost to him, once he was in prison. _She is so worth it. _He turned and went in the bathroom to cry in peace. She slowly pulled her clothes on, knowing her life would be drastically different once he left her.

Within half an hour, they stood outside Roosevelt's cop car. He was clean and shiny in his kutte, and she longed to wake from the nightmare she was living. Roosevelt stood quietly, his soul aching as he watched Jax and Tara say their goodbyes. _I never got a goodbye, _he thought bitterly. The loss of his wife and child still cut him to pieces. It never got better.

"I have to go see the boys," Jax murmured in her ear. She nodded.

"Yes you do. All of them." It was Jax's turn to nod.

"I'll take you home, Tara," Eli said quietly. Tara stepped away from him and let him walk towards his bike. The kutte almost sparkled in the late afternoon sun. He looked like a god as he walked from her.

"Teller!" she cried into the vast emptiness. He turned and grinned beautifully.

"I love you too, Tara," he replied. _She looks like a goddamned angel. _She turned away. She couldn't watch him go. The sound of the bike starting jolted her to life again, and she wanted to cry with the sound. They said they would meet later at the house, and he would turn himself in to the DA. She prayed he'd keep his word, even though she knew she didn't have to. Jax would keep his word.

Eli was taking her home. She stared at the landmarks of Charming as they passed. They passed Burosky's bakery. The school they'd met at so long ago. The intersection that changed Opie's life forever. _Donna. Oh God, I miss you._ They passed Teller-Morrow, in all its destroyed glory. Goosebumps pricked her skin as they rolled by. Gemma's house was down the road.

It seemed like an eternity before they arrived home. Tara thanked Eli as he parked the car. He nodded. He liked the good doctor. He did. She was a good woman.  
>Tara breezed past Unser's truck as she walked in the house. It was quiet. She stood looking across the living room, letting memories carry her to better times. She smiled for the first time in ages. <em>Jax loved her. Jax loved his boys. He's doing right by us, and that's all that matters.<em>

A noise caught her attention. She peered around the corner.

"Wayne, is that you?" Her eyes widened as she saw who really had driven to her home.

_Gemma. _Tara stared at Jax's mother, and like the proverbial deer caught in headlights, she froze. Gemma's dark eyes were wild and crazed. She stumbled only slightly, and Tara suddenly realized she was drunk or high, or both. There was no warning. Gemma lunged after Tara, iron in hand. The older woman caught Tara. Somehow, she'd managed to grab an iron. Gemma slammed the iron into Tara's stomach. _Payback is a bitch, Tara. _

What Gemma didn't plan for was Tara's fingers gripping the iron and tearing it from her. Tara clocked Gemma in the face, and she screamed.

"You fucking bitch!" Gemma and Tara struggled towards the sink. Gemma caught Tara by the hair and pushed her face deep into the water. _Who left water in the sink? Goddamnit._ The doctor kicked and thrashed. _She's killing me. I'm going to fucking die here. _Tara struggled to stand, but Gemma's force was too strong. _Goodbye Jax, I love you…oh Abel, Thomas…I love you more. Mommy loves you so much. _Unconsciousness penetrated her brain, and she drifted off.

_Drowning isn't a horrible way to go, once you let go…Wait. Am I dead? Is this Heaven? _Tara's eyes blinked open. The first thing she saw was blood. _There's no blood in Heaven. _It was black and sticky, and it was everywhere. The only thing she could truly focus on was a long, spiked heel. Her heart began to race. _Gemma. Oh God. I'm still alive. She's still here. What the fuck do I do. _The shoe didn't move, neither did the leg attached to it. Tara pulled her head up. When her eyes focused, her heart told her to scream, but her head told her to stay silent.

_Gemma is dead. She's fucking dead. _Tara sat up slowly. Her head throbbed with pain. Her entire body couldn't comprehend its current living status. _I'm alive. And she's dead. _As she focused on the scene, she gasped with what she saw. _Eli. Oh no._

Charming's sheriff lay dead just feet away from Gemma. Both corpses sported bullet wounds. Gemma's went straight through her skull, and Eli's had cleared his chest. Tara couldn't think. She could barely move, but she pulled herself up and sat in the corner. She began to rock slowly back and forth.

She had no idea what happened. She couldn't even begin to comprehend the scene in front her. She began to hum. The rocking and the humming helped.

"Babe?" Tara hadn't even heard the door open, much less heard Jax walk through.

She couldn't speak. All she could do was hum. She heard him pull his gun.

"Oh my God." Jax's voice was barely a whisper. His kitchen floor was covered in blood. He was the only person in the room left unscathed. It looked as though everyone that had been present had been bleeding at one time or another.

"Mom?" Jax looked at Gemma Teller-Morrow's body. _A single bullet wound to the head_. Her beautiful brown eyes were now lifeless and lackluster. Her fingers were covered in blood, and Jax wasn't sure if it was hers or Eli's, because he lay just a few feet from her. The gaping wound in his chest left a massive pool of congealed blood behind. His eyes, unlike Gemma's were at peace. A gentle smile was etched on his face. _At least one of you found relief, _Jax thought. Tears filled his eyes.

"J…J…Jax-x-x-x-," Tara's soft voice broke the silence. Jax hadn't even seen her there. He gasped and dropped the gun. He went to his wife and embraced her. She trembled fiercely. Her hazel eyes were blinking rapidly, and she was completely shellshocked. Her hands fluttered, because she had no idea what to do. She didn't want Jax to hold her, but she couldn't fight him. Horror permeated every fiber of her being. _Did I kill them? Who killed them, if I didn't? Are they going to kill me? Am I next? Oh. My. God. Please. Please. Please. Help. Me._

"Shhh, Babe, shhh. It's okay. I'm here. Jax is here. I'm not going anywhere. I promise." He rocked her back and forth. He didn't even realize he was crying until he felt the tears drip off his jaw.

"Mr. Teller," Tyne Patterson's regal voice filled the silence. "Do you mind telling me what the hell just happened." Jax turned to see the strangely beautiful woman standing in the doorway. Disgust and terror covered her face. Jax gritted his teeth and surveyed the blood soaked floor.

"I don't know exactly," he replied, "But I think it's safe to say our deal is off."


	2. Chapter 2

"Dr. Knowles, is there anything I can get you?" Tara felt dizzy as she tried to read the nurse's nametag.

_Lindsay Jacobs, RN, BSN. _Tara didn't know her, but then again, this was the emergency room, not the NICU, so she didn't expect to. The girl was younger than she and smaller in stature and in size, with honey blonde hair and kind light brown eyes. Concern blanketed those eyes as she studied the doctor's vitals. _Blood pressure is 150/96. Pulse is 102. _Tara still wore a mask of fear and anguish, and she'd barely spoken since they'd brought her in.

Jax was in the hallway with District Attorney Patterson. Tara couldn't hear anything, but she was pretty sure what was going down: Jax was cutting a deal of some sort to keep him outside; after all, he needed to find Gemma and Eli's killer. He had to find the person that tried to kill his wife as well. Tara hadn't explained Gemma's brutal attack. She simply couldn't bring herself to do it. Part of her wished she'd died; at least then she didn't have the task of explaining what happened. She didn't have to remember the cold, disgusting water filling her nose and mouth. She could forget the prayers to God to protect her boys and her beloved husband. As it stood, all Tara could forget was what happened after those prayers. She had no idea how she ended up on the floor. She couldn't tell anyone who shot Gemma Teller-Morrow or Eli Roosevelt. It was just easier to allow Jax to assume that her attacker was the same attacker that killed the others. The assumption would allow her time to piece everything together.

_What if I can't remember? _ The thought plagued her mind. Did it matter? She was alive and Gemma was dead. Evil was extinguished, and she could finally raise the boys in a semblance of peace. Maybe she and Jax could try and escape the club. Tara felt her heart rate slow with that thought. She allowed herself to imagine a normal life with Jax. They would head up to Oregon or to Washington with Abel and Thomas. She'd find work at a hospital, and he could start his own mechanic business. The boys could have them both in their lives. Maybe, just maybe, if Jax could tie the mess her life had become into a neat and tidy package, they could have the happily ever after they'd both longed for.

_What if I killed them? _The thought plagued her mind, killing the fantasy. She tried like hell to remember. Nothing but blackness came. Tears sprang to her eyes. If she was the guilty party, could Jax forgive her? Could the club? Would they understand that it was kill or be killed? Would they be able to see past the hold Gemma had on SAMCRO, or would they crucify the good doctor? She sighed as the nurse left the room. Everything was so uncertain.  
>Jax entered the room. Dressed in his kutte, a white tee shirt and loose jeans, he looked like he did almost every day, but it was the guilt in his eyes that made him look different. He tried to smile, but it didn't work. Worry was all she could see. It was her turn to feel guilty. He loved her; she knew it. There was no question, and it was that love that kept him from mourning his mother. She wondered if he knew the truth. If he did, she would appreciate an update.<p>

"Hey Babe," he said slowly. He walked to her bedside and gently sat beside her. His hand covered hers. She looked deeply into his eyes, and her heart constricted with pain as his huge blue eyes stared into hers. A light mist of tears stung the back of her eyes. She ached down to her very soul. All she wanted to do was turn back the clock. _But where would I turn the clock back to? _The nagging voice in her mind told her exactly where to turn back time.  
><em>You should have stayed in Chicago.<em> She knew it was true. Everything changed when she arrived in Charming. His destiny was just as wrapped up in her as her destiny was wrapped up in his, and there was no turning back. _I just fucking had to come back. I had to bring Kohn. I wish he would have just killed me. Then Jax wouldn't be here. His mother would be alive, and I wouldn't know this goddamned pain. _

"How are you holding up?" he asked. His left hand reached to stroke her hair. She leaned into his hand without thinking. Jax Teller was just as much habit as he was love, and he was hard as hell to break. His thumb found her bruised jawbone, and he gently stroked the sore flesh. The touch was so gentle, tears scalded her eyes. They fell , unbidden, down her cheeks. No words were said. Jax embraced his wife, grateful he wasn't burying her too.  
>Tara could hear Jax's heart thumping against his sternum. It was one of two of the most comforting sounds she knew. The other was the sound of the boys breathing as they slept. She sobbed as she realized how close she came to losing them all. Jax clutched her tightly, sobbing with her.<p>

_ Let her go Gemma! _The sound of a male voice rang in Tara's ears. _What the hell are you doing? _She felt Gemma's grip loosen, but her long talon-like fingers still held a fierce grip. Tara stopped struggling. _She's fucking dead, Gemma! What the fuck have you done?! _She could feel Gemma letting go. The talons released her, and Tara fell to floor. She was barely breathing, and she struggled to stay conscious. A strange chill overwhelmed her, and she shivered ever so slightly. She wanted to open her eyes, but they didn't cooperate.

_No! No! No! _It was Gemma's turn to scream. Tara's mind was fuzzy. Her heart was pounding. The sounds of her mother-in-law's terror registered in Tara's brain, but her body, completely broken down from Gemma's assault, couldn't respond to the chaos surrounding her. Gemma screamed. Peel after peel of horror erupted from her throat, and Tara was powerless to stop it.

That's when the gunshots came. Tara heard them, six or seven of them, in quick succession. Gemma's screams stopped. A heavy thud hit the floor. _What the hell happened? _

"Tara." Jax's anguished voice broke Tara's memory. "Babe, talk to me. Do you remember anything? Do you know what happened?" He cradled her face in his hands. They were so warm, so comforting. She closed her eyes, reveling in the touch. She loved him. God, did she love him.

She shook her head in the negative. She'd only remembered that small bit, and that wasn't enough to help. Not yet, anyway. She buried her head in the crook between Jax's shoulder and his neck. She inhaled his earthy scent. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his tight, hard waist. She could feel him trembling, and she knew her husband was a jumble of crazed emotions. Less than twelve hours ago, their fate seemed sealed: Jax was going to prison to save their family. He decided to leave behind SAMCRO, and in that agreement, he freed her from the criminal life they'd both seemed destined to live.

"I love you, Jackson Teller," she murmured into his flesh. Wordlessly, he grabbed her face again. Slowly, carefully, he touched her lips with his. She released his waist and reached to caress his face. She brushed his tears away.

"I love you, Tara." He broke their embrace, but he still clutched her hands.

"What's going to happen now?" Tara spoke, even though she didn't want to. She could barely whisper. Her throat was raw from the water, from the screaming, and from the tears. Jax stared at the floor and stayed silent for a moment.

"I talked to Patterson. She's going to work with me, but I don't have a lot of time. She wants answers, and she wants a person to pin Eli and…and…" Jax swallowed hard. "Gemma's deaths. If I can find the killer, if I can pin responsibility on someone, then she may cut a deal with me, with us."  
>Tara blinked. The deal they'd struck with Patterson seemed like ancient history now, but she knew that all the tragedies that led up to this day would eventually catch up, and they would have to answer for everything: Pamela Toric, the school shooting, and now Gemma and Eli. She hadn't prayed in ages, but part of her ached to unburden herself on someone, and she knew that someone couldn't be Jax. Not yet.<p>

"Jax, I…I…don't remember what happened. Not now, anyway…I…I..don't know how much help I'll be…I don't want you to put all your hopes on what I can recall…right now, it's nothing."

"I know, Tara." It was all Jax could say. The door to Tara's room swung open. A tall, caramel skinned woman walked in. Her pale green eyes quickly scanned them both.

"Dr. Knowles," she said sweetly. "Mr. Teller." She knew the pretty ER physician. She'd come to St. Thomas months prior, but they hadn't spoken much, unless the ER requested her for a consult.

"Dr. Christopher," Tara returned. She watched the gorgeous woman flicked her long, chocolate locks over her shoulder._ Doctors shouldn't be that pretty. _  
>"Your bloodwork came back normal. Your CT is as good as to be expected, as did your chest x-ray. If you were a typical patient, you'd be staying overnight for observation."<p>

"But she's not a typical patient, right Doc?" Jax spoke up for her. Tara looked at her husband. He clutched her hand. He wasn't planning on ever letting her go.

"Right," she said quietly. "I'm going to let you go, but I need to you to be careful. You've been through hell and back tonight, and it is against my better judgment that I am releasing you." Tara nodded.

"I spoke with Margaret. She wants you to call her and discuss where you're going from here." Tara said nothing. The hospital administrator was the last thing on her mind. "I'm writing you a script for pain medication. The nurse will bring it in, along with your discharge instructions."

"Thank you Doc," Jax said. Dr. Christopher nodded. She spun on her heel and left the room.

"Where are we going to stay tonight?" Tara asked the obvious question. "I mean…"

"I know. We're going to the cabin. We'll be based out of there for a while. Patterson already knows where we'll be, so do Bobby and Chibs. I feel it's safest there, especially with Mom's killer still on the loose."

Tara nodded once more and ignored the chill rising up her spine. _Especially with Mom's killer on the loose. _ The sound of gunshots flew through Tara's psyche again. The screaming demand to let her go helped her realize that she wasn't responsible for the death of Gemma and Eli. She had been powerless to stop the deaths, but she didn't kill them.

She closed her eyes and struggled to remember. Nothing came. The voice she heard was still jumbled in her mind. Nothing made sense. She began to shake uncontrollably.

"J…J…Jax," she stammered again. It seemed to be all that she was capable of now. Stammering and shaking and sobbing seemed to be all she could do. Her entire world was shattered, and somehow, they'd have to pick up the pieces one more time, just as they always did. Jax folded Tara in a tight embrace.

"Let's go get our boys, honey. Let's get out of St. Thomas, and let's get Thomas and Abel, and let's just go to the cabin. I just want to hold you and protect you and love you."

_He needs me as much as I need him._ It was a sobering thought. Despite all that happened, Jax had endured just as much as she had. He left SAMCRO and came to their home, expecting to go to jail. He was greeted with a dead sheriff and his dead mother. His wife was a stammering mess in the corner. Guilt ate at Tara's heart. _My poor fucking husband. My poor fucking kids. My poor fucking family._

__The coming days were going to bring Gemma and Eli's funerals. The coming days were going to bring heartache and pain and agony unimaginable. Tara hated to think of it all, but as they gathered her things and began to leave, she knew she was grateful to be alive. Everything could have been very, very different.

They left St. Thomas hand in hand. When she saw the bike, her grip on his hand tightened. Jax let go and moved behind her. A thick, well-muscled arm encircled her shoulders. She could feel his lips lightly touch the back of her neck.

"It's over now," he whispered. "You don't have to be scared." She stared for a moment longer, as an unseasonably cool wind caressed her face. He noticed the fear in her eyes. He barely saw any trace of the passionate beauty that he had so lusted over all those years ago. The woman that stood by him now was broken, and the months of shame showed like a biography written across her face.

_I have to make this right. _Jax's jaw tightened with resolve. _I have to find out what happened in that house. I have to find out what happened to Gemma, to Eli, to Tara. _He felt Tara relax under his touch. _And I have to make a choice. I can't stay with SAMCRO now. I have pulled this woman through the depths of hell, and if Fate hadn't intervened, I'd be planning her funeral too. _He sighed and pulled her against him. A faint, ironic smile played across her lips.

"Jax, my whole life now is about fear, isn't it?" Tara didn't expect an answer, and Jax didn't have one. Instead, she broke the embrace and walked slowly towards his bike. Robotically, she strapped a helmet on and climbed on the back. He watched as she waited for him.

"Mine is too, Tara," he whispered. "Mine is too." Without another thought, he walked to his bike and to the woman he loved. He straddled the Harley and cranked it to life. As they sped away, he realized just how scared he was. After the day he'd had, it was probably the only thing keeping him alive.


	3. Chapter 3

The cabin held more ghosts than it did memories. Tara could feel the specters of her past haunting her. She hadn't slept well in days, and when she did sleep, images of Gemma erupted in her mind. She didn't understand what had pushed her mother-in-law to do what she did, and that wreaked havoc on her emotions. _I should be relieved Gemma is gone. I should be thankful she was killed. Gemma's murderer saved my life. _

Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of doom that rested in her chest. Images of her dead mother-in-law assailed her, and none of them were of the insane, violent woman that almost took her life. _She's holding Abel. God, he was so tiny. She read to him every single night. _Tara shook her head. It was as if she was trying to dislodge the good of Gemma from her memory. Unanswered questions plagued her: _Who did this? _Images of rival gangs and SAMCRO enemies danced in her head. T_he Mayans, the Chinese, the Irish. _She racked her brain. _That makes no sense_. If it was any of them, they wouldn't have left any room for error; they would have shot her just to make sure she was truly dead. _That voice. _ She could still hear it; she simply didn't recognize it. Her head had been submerged in water. The voice was deep, and that's all she could recall.

Her gut churned. Night had fallen on the cabin. The boys were lost in peaceful dreams as Tara was lost in thought. Jax was outside, talking to Chibs. Gemma was going to be buried tomorrow. It was a strange, sobering thought. Eli Roosevelt had been laid to rest already, and it seemed impossible to believe that almost a week had passed since that night. _Too many graves. _A roll call of the dead screamed in her memory: _Donna. Luanne. Hale. Dawn. Opie. Clay._ She clamped her eyes shut as tears threatened to fall. _Now Gemma and Eli. _She inhaled deeply. _It could have been me. It could have been me. _The words stayed on repeat as Tara began to rock back and forth. _It could have been me._

__ "Hey darlin'," Jax's voice entered the room before he did. His heart shattered when he saw his wife weeping and rocking, mumbling to herself. _She's broken. _He wondered if Tara would ever be the woman she once was. He sat beside her and wrapped a strong arm around her thin frame. He looked at the walls of the room they'd been sharing. His soul had never felt so empty. In the span of less than two weeks, everything in his life had changed. They were no closer to finding Gemma and Eli's killer than they were before, and they were running out of time. DA Patterson wanted someone to pin the school shooting on; that hadn't changed. Now, with his mother and the sheriff's pictures splattered across the newspapers and television, Charming grew rabidly hungry for the culprit.

From what Jax had gathered from Bobby and Chibs, Charming was tense, at best. Pockets of violence were breaking out everywhere. From robbery to fist fights and shoot outs, the tiny town Jax had always called home was starting to unravel at the seams. Businesses were closing before dark. Regular people carried guns and knives. It was as close to anarchy as Jax or Bobby or Chibs had ever seen, and it was terrifying. JT's ideas, in their own twisted way, were coming to fruition, and it wasn't anything SAMCRO could have ever truly anticipated.

Tara had leaned into his shoulder. Jax wrapped his other free arm around her. She melted into him, grateful for his strong, hard body. Her head just seemed to fit on his shoulder, and it felt safe. His hand reached up and stroked her short dark hair. Her hand grazed his thigh, and desire flooded him. It was hard, even in her fragile state, to not want her. He'd respected her need to be alone. He wanted her to go through every emotion she needed to through. The only thing he wanted was his wife to return to him.

Tara reached out and gently caressed his face. He closed his eyes. His heart thumped rapidly against his chest. Carefully, he reached up and covered her hand with his. He gently pulled it away and slowly kissed her palm, then her wrist. A low hum of pleasure escaped her throat. _I miss him._ Her body yearned for him. Her head still on his shoulder, she placed her lips on his neck. She could feel his pulse quicken beneath her mouth. His fingers entwined with hers. He moved his head, so their lips could meet. He drank her in hungrily as she responded to his kiss. Slowly, they both leaned back on the bed, side-by-side.

"Tara," her name was a gravelly murmur. She pushed his kutte off his shoulders. It slid down his arms and onto the bed. In one fluid motion, he rolled atop her and straddled her. His hands made quick work of the buttons on her black shirt. Her ivory skin was exposed. He stifled an incredulous gasp. His throat ached with unused tears as he stared. He couldn't move. Massive discolorations covered her abdomen. A long black bruise rested on her left shoulder, just beneath her black bra strap. _God, what the hell did you go through, Tara? _ _ I only wish I knew. I bet you do too._

She saw the horror in his eyes. In that moment, she'd forgotten about the battle scars. All she wanted was to feel something good again. Shame and fear coursed through her veins. Her heart felt like it was in her throat. Part of her wanted to crawl under the bed and rot, but the part of her that survived and lived on wanted her husband. With a deep breath, Tara sat up. Her hand gripped the back of his neck, and she pulled him close.

"Make love to me, Jackson," she whispered. "Make me forget everything but you."

"I don't want to hurt you, Tara," he returned. A hot flush suffused her cheeks as anger took over. _What if I want you to hurt me, Jax? What if I want to be everything you think an old lady should be? What if I want to be brutal and tough as nails, like...like...?_

_"_You won't hurt me," she answered quickly, dismissing that thought. The words were tight with frustration. He gazed at her and shook his head, disbelieving. He started to roll away, but she forcefully jerked him back. They stared at one another for a moment. She watched as he quietly assessed her.

"Yes, I will, Tara," he answered. "You're in no condition to do this. You're too fragile right now. I can't risk it, no matter how much I want you."

"Fragile? You really just said that, Jackson?" Her words were drenched in bitterness. "After what I just survived, after what I've seen, you're really calling me fucking _fragile_?" A clip of harsh, angry laughter left her mouth. "Is this _fragile_?" She gripped his face in her hands and pulled in to her. Her mouth crushed brutally against his. Her tongue probed wildly. Aroused, he returned the kiss for equal force, and together, they fell back on the mattress. She gently nibbled his lips as his hands set fire to her skin. She could feel his fingers unbuttoning her jeans. Her hands slid underneath his black tee shirt. She could feel every ripple of cut muscle beneath her fingertips.

Jax sat up and pulled the shirt off. Tara's eyes widened at the sight of his beauty. _It never gets old. He's just so goddamned beautiful. _He gripped the waist of her jeans and pulled them off. Her black, boy shorts came off shortly thereafter. Now clad only in her open black blouse and black bra, Tara propped herself up on her hands to allow Jax to pull the remaining garments off. He cradled her back for a moment and ripped the shirt and bra away, and he took a moment to gaze upon the woman he loved. _I almost lost her. God, what if lost her? _

He couldn't allow himself to think of the answer. Instead, he stood and pulled what was left of his clothing off. His jeans and boxers fell to the floor, and he leisurely climbed atop his wife. He reveled in the electricity of his skin on hers. Her back arched as his tongue traced the slender column of her throat.

"God, I want you, Tara," he muttered thickly. Tara didn't speak; instead, she wrapped her long, slender legs around Jax's waist. The sensation was enough to drive him to madness. Her fingers dug into his back, and she moaned. Without hesitation, Jax thrust into her willing body. His jaw clenched and a deep groan rattled his throat. Her legs tightened around him as they picked up each other's rhythm. Within moments, they were drenched with sweat, inhaling and exhaling together. Tara stared into his eyes, and to his astonishment, Jax couldn't take the intimacy. It was just too much.

_ What if I lost her? _ The question plagued his mind as he pumped harder into her. His throat ached, as did the rest of his body. He couldn't breathe. The tension in his bones and muscles was the most exquisite torture, but it was his mind that haunted him. _I can't lose her. I cannot lose this woman. Not now, not ever. I love her too much._

__Tara moved beneath her husband as he skillfully moved within her. _This is what I needed, _she thought. _ God, I love him. I love him so fucking much_. She closed her eyes and arched beneath him. She moaned and held on for dear life.

"Jackson, I..." she couldn't finish the sentence. Shudder after shudder ripped through her body as she came. An oblivion of light and heat engulfed her, and she didn't realize she was repeating her husband's name over and over again in a litany of passion and desire and deep, abiding love. Jax wasn't far behind her. Satisfied that she'd attained her satisfaction, he allowed himself the long overdue release. Breathless, he collapsed atop her. His mind and his heart played with his soul as the unending question stayed on repeat in his conscience. _What if there was no Tara? What if I was alone? _Before he even realized it, he was shaking with uncontrollable, unyielding sobs.

Tara lay under him in disbelief. He clutched her tightly as the dam of tears broke through, soaking her skin. She tried to put her arms around him, but they were pinioned by her sides. He sobbed violently. He couldn't even begin to control it. He cried for Tara, for himself, for the boys. His tears were for Donna and Opie and even Clay. He'd lost so much, and he'd been so focused on his wife, he'd forgotten to grieve_. Mom, I'm so sorry. _Thoughts of Gemma assailed him. _There she is, sitting next to Clay at the head of the table. She's reading to Abel. Thomas loved her so much. _He remembered the night she told them of her rape. _The agony in her eyes. She carried this burden. Alone. _Gemma Teller-Morrow, for all her insanity and bloodlust, had done one thing with her entire heart and soul: she loved her boys. Every single one of them.

_Gemma_. The word echoed within him_. Mom_. He hadn't even begun to process the pain_. _Images of her lying on his kitchen floor flooded his mind's eye. Images of Tara, wet, broken, bloody, and terrified flashed intermittently in between. He rolled away from his wife and turned his back to her. Curled in an almost fetal position, Jax sobbed on.

Tara was stunned. Jax had always been made of pure steel, willing and able to set all emotions aside for his club and his family. To see him break down brought tears to her own eyes. Wordlessly, she reached for one of the cast aside blankets and covered him. She pressed her body against his back as she snuggled under the covers. Her arms held him, and she cried quietly as he cried. _This poor man. If he knew even the small bit I remember, would he still love me? _Tara closed her eyes. _I cannot be without him. Even if that means he never finds out. I almost lost him, and he almost lost me, and the boys…_She stopped thinking. She couldn't think of her sons as orphans. She refused.

Slowly, Jax's sobs ceased. Tara's embrace tightened. Jax's hands held hers, and she reveled in the feeling. _I know he loves me. I can never, ever doubt that again._ Her hands rubbed Jax's chiseled torso. _He grieves the possible loss of me just as much as he grieves the very real loss of his mother._ The thought was a sobering one. She kissed his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Tara," his voice was hollow as he spoke to her. "I think everything…"

"Just hit you all at once?" Tara finished. His gorgeous blonde head nodded. He rolled to face her, and Tara's soul retched as she saw his tear swollen face. The pillar of strength and manliness she'd worshipped since she turned sixteen was now a disheveled, fucked up mess. It was humbling for them both.

"In one night, our world fell apart," he stated. It was Tara's turn to nod. _Your mother almost killed me. If Fate hadn't intervened, you'd be planning my funeral right now, not Gemma's. _Hate and heartbreak roiled in her blood. _Goddamn it, Gemma, why couldn't you just let me explain? Why couldn't you let me talk? Why did you have to beat me into submission? _Vomit threatened her throat as she fought the urge be sick.

"My mother is dead. Someone shot her to death in the home we shared with our sons. And I know that, somehow, some way, it can be traced back to me." Tara swallowed hard. _If he only knew._

__"I walked into our home, thinking I'd be turning myself in to save you, to save the club, to save our boys, and…it was a bloodbath. A fucking bloodbath. Eli had a massive hole in his chest, and Mom had a bullet in her goddamned head. I lost it. I fucking lost it." Tara nodded. Jax clenched his teeth as he continued.

"And when I searched for you, I thought you…I thought that…"

"You don't have to say it, Jax," Tara said slowly. "Trust me, I never expected to live through it after Gemma…" Jax's eyes narrowed as her voice trailed off.

"After Gemma what, Tara?" Jax's voice cracked. "Do you remember something?" Tara's heart beat in an imperfect rhythm. She looked down. She wasn't thinking. She didn't mean to mention Gemma's name, and now she didn't know how to undo her words. She began to shake again. Her entire body trembled. Fear took over, as did memories. Suddenly, Tara was submerged in the water again. Gemma had already let go, and Tara's body, worn down from struggle, collapsed onto the ground. She tried to open her eyes, but she was so weak.

_So goddamned weak. _That's when the gunshots came. A hail of gunfire erupted in the small space. Tara was paralyzed and terrified.

"Oh my God." It was that voice, but this time, it was clearer, not as jumbled. It was still low, barely a whisper. Silence was deafening. Tara heard footsteps. She tried to open her eyes. They fluttered open, then shut again. This happened two or three times. In the distance, she saw a black clad figure running from them. Black leather boots were all she could make out. They ran down the hallway. The door slammed shut, as did Tara's recollection.

"You do remember," Jax stated. Tara shook her head.

"Not as much as you think I do, Jax," she whispered. _And more than you could have ever imagined. _Jax pulled her close. He didn't want to hurt her tonight. He hurt enough for the both of them. His family was all but destroyed. The boys slept on in the bedroom across the hall, and Tara was in his arms. The irony hadn't escaped him. Almost every single piece of his old family was gone. _JT. Thomas. Donna. Opie. Piney. Clay. Otto. Gemma. _Only the family he'd forged with Tara remained. So far, their love was stronger than anything else. It was what Jax relied upon to keep his sanity. His heart was broken, but it would heal. As long as Jax had them, he could stand anything.

"You're not going to lose me, Jackson." Her voice was almost inaudible, but he heard her. He stared into Tara's beautiful eyes, and he remembered the anguish that came with just the _idea _of losing her. He pulled her against his chest. He could feel her heart beat against his ribs. It was the most wonderful sensation. His whole body tingled.

As Jax drifted off to sleep, Tara's words comforted him. She couldn't help but rest her head on his chest, and Jax loved the feeling of her body against his. When they woke in the morning, they would head back to Charming. They'd lay Gemma in the ground, and she'd join the ranks of the SAMCRO dead. Jax's past was dying with each soul they buried, and he couldn't help but remember his long-gone promises to Tara. Resolved hardened within him as he realized what he had to do. He knew he couldn't stay in Charming. Losing his mother and almost losing Tara had finally pushed the King of SAMCRO to come to a conclusion he'd known would happen all along. _I have to break away from the club. _It was true. As much as he loved the club, he knew that one day, in one way or another, Tara would be gone if he didn't. That wasn't something he was willing to bear. Sorrow ached within him, but he knew it was he right decision. The only question was _how_. He had precious little time to figure It out, but he could do it.

Right now, all he could focus on was the sound gentle and familiar sound of Tara sleeping. It lulled Jax into something calm and steady. The time to figure out his next move would come soon, but at this moment, with his beloved wife in his arms, all he could think of was his family. She lay next to him, and as her breathing deepened and became more rhythmic, it soothed his nerves and lulled him softly to sleep. Revenge and plans and mayhem could wait just a little bit longer.


	4. Chapter 4

A sea of black surrounded Jax, Tara, and the boys. Both Tara and Jax knew the turnout would be massive, but almost a thousand people turned out to pay respects to SAMCRO's dead dowager queen. Tara and Jax were seated. Tara held a sleeping Thomas, and Abel sat on Jax's lap. Behind them stood Bobby, Chibs, Tig, Happy, and Juice. Unser sat to the left of Tara. Her free hand held his as he wept freely. She felt the guilt pouring off of him. She silently wondered if he felt her guilt too.

"Gemma Teller-Morrow was a good woman." Tara felt ill as the preacher spoke. _Yeah, she was great. Almost killing me was her crown fucking achievement. _Tara noticed how she went back and forth with her emotions. She vacillated between anger and all-out fury to sadness and nostalgia and back again. If it weren't for her boys and for Jax, she would never feel even the slightest bit of happiness.

"She was a giver to the Charming community. She reached out to many charitable organizations, and she gave so much to St. Thomas, but the one place she will be missed most is at home. Her boys, Jackson and Abel and Thomas, as well as her daughter Tara, they were her world." Tara wanted to vomit as the word _daughter _left his lips.

_Daughter._ It was such a strange word. There had been a time she considered herself a daughter to Gemma. Back before all the insanity set in, Gemma was one of her closest allies. She taught her how to navigate the murky waters of the club. For all intents and purposes, Gemma had taught Tara how to better love her son.

Jax held her right hand. Sunglasses masked his eyes. Tara could see the tears falling. She was just glad he could cry. He needed to cry. He needed to get the pain out. It was good for him. It was good for both of them. She watched as Jax stared at the coffin. It was black, polished to a high shine. The silver handles glimmered in the noonday sun. Sprays of roses, of all colors, surrounded the casket. _Roses were Gemma's favorites. _

"Today, we say goodbye," the preacher intoned. "We say goodbye to a leader. We say goodbye to a wife, a mother, a grandmother. Gemma Teller-Morrow was all of these things and more. She was so much more."

Tara was shocked as tears streamed down her face. _Why am I crying? _ Her conscience answered. _You're crying because you loved her. You're crying because, no matter what, you thought that there was some way you could repair whatever you had…_

There was no hope now. Gemma was gone, and with every day that passed, Tara was remembering more. Last night, while she lay in Jax's sleeping arms, she had a breakthrough of sorts. _I can still smell the blood. _She was back in the kitchen. Her skin stuck to the floor. She couldn't lift herself up, but her eyes fluttered back open and cooperated. She saw the boots again. They paced, as if their inhabitant had a struggle, a decision to make. Finally, they stopped. The boots were coming at her. She closed her eyes quickly. She didn't want the culprit to think she was still alive.

The shooter was inches away from her. She could smell a subtle hint of cologne. Silently, he knelt. He gently touched her hair. She could feel a strange, subtle wetness on her arm. _Tears. The man is crying._

"I'm sorry," he murmured softly. The voice was barely a croak, and she didn't recognize it. With another quick stroke, the man stood. The boots left her.

_Amazing Grace._ The song soared in the air. Tara's eyes dried. Thomas had woken, but he didn't cry. He just observed his mother with sweet, innocent eyes, oblivious to the army of bikers surrounding them. Tara smiled lovingly at her son as she relished the weight of him in the crook of her arm. Unser was crying. Tara's heart constricted. He was the one man Tara trusted to spill her secrets, but decided to stay quiet about what Gemma had done, especially now. _Oh, how Wayne loved her, flaws and all. _ _His whole world is gone. I can't break his heart more._

As the last note rang out, the preacher asked all to rise. Tara stood with Jax and Unser. The man of God motioned for the family to grab a clod of dirt. Jax placed Abel's feet on the ground. He held the little boy's hand as they moved towards the grave. All but Tara, who still held Thomas, grabbed the earth. She watched as Jax threw the clump of dirt onto his mother's casket. Each member of SAMCRO followed suit. Unser and Abel stood together. Abel reached down and without hesitation, grabbed a fist of earth. He looked up at Unser. Tara's heart broke. _He's waiting on Unser. Oh, sweet Jesus. _

Unser's whole body shook with ragged, unyielding sobs. Tara thought he'd collapse with the weight of his grief. She passed the baby to Jax and began walking towards him, but when Unser knelt and copied Abel's action, she stopped. The old man, riddled with cancer, reached out and grabbed the little boy's hand. Together, they threw their last respects onto the glorified box. Tara hadn't realized she'd been holding her breath until she exhaled. She could feel Jax's presence behind her. They stood together as what was left of Gemma was lowered into the ground. Tara began to tear up again, and when the tears fell, she didn't stop them. She just let them fall. She needed to grieve, just like her son did. Just like they all did.

As she cried, she felt SAMCRO surround her. Chibs, Bobby, Tig, Juice, and Happy stood with them. Just a few hundred feet behind them, Sons of Anarchy charters from all over stood in solidarity. The familiar tug of war between what she thought was right and what she knew was right began. Each club member held a special place in her heart, and she knew they'd die to protect her and her boys, but death abounded in the club. How many more funerals would she have to attend? Love couldn't buy back lives lost.

"C'mon babe, let's head back." Jax sounded as drained as she felt. She nodded. They turned to leave. The sun had reached its highest point, and Tara could feel her exposed shoulders beginning to redden.  
>They walked towards the car. Tara turned to look at Gemma's resting place one more time. One more glance would bring the closure she desperately needed.<p>

When she turned, she spied a tall, black clad figure. He stood by Gemma's grave. She stopped and watched him. He stood for a moment, his head bowed in prayer. She began walking back. Jax noticed and called her name.

"Tara, are you ok? We should go." Tara nodded absently and motioned towards Gemma. Jax saw the man standing there, and instantly he understood. She watched as he turned his back and walked, with the boys, towards the car. She knew he'd wait for her.

"Nero," Tara said gently. The man stood straight. He was dressed in head-to-toe black. His salt and pepper hair blew in the breeze. He stared ahead, not physically acknowledging Tara's presence.

"I cannot fucking believe this is happening. It's surreal." Tara moved closer to him. Their shoulders almost touched. She looked at his face. His eyes were covered by large, black sunglasses. Underneath the lenses, tears streamed down his face and off his chin.

"Yeah, it is. I'm still having a hard time reconciling it myself."

"I loved her, Tara." Tara nodded. "I loved her enough to think we'd have a future outside of this SAMCRO life. I even asked her to come to my uncle's farm. She refused, of course." A sardonic smile spread across his face. "She just wouldn't leave."

"I know," Tara replied. She looked down at her feet, unsure of what else to say.

"She told you?" Nero was surprised. Tara shook her head.

"No, but I know you want out. I know you wanted to save Gemma. I struggle with that need every single day with her son. It's been my whole world since I came back to Charming. I can't escape it, no matter how hard I try. When I wake up, I am scared, and when I go to bed, I am scared. There are nights I don't sleep at all. I'm just waiting for something else to happen."

"It's not any way to live, Tara," Nero countered. This time, Tara nodded.

"I know."

"So what now, Tara? Where do we go from here? What does Jax want to do?"

"He has to find who did this. Patterson wants redemption for the school shooting, and she's only giving Jax a small timeframe to find the killer. If he doesn't, he has to comply with the deal set in motion before this happened, and that will leave the boys and me outside and very much alone. With a murderer loose, that thought is…"

"Terrifying," Nero finished the sentence. She nodded again. Nero turned to face Tara. He removed his glasses. She turned to face him. She could feel the sun scorching her exposed skin, but she didn't care. Nero's pain was tangible, and filled her stomach with a hollow ache she didn't quite understand. She reached out and stroked his arm. He stepped back like he'd been burned.

"Don't." His voice was agitated. Tara's brow furrowed in confusion.

"I'm sorry," she said calmly. "I didn't mean to…"

"I have to go," Nero mumbled. He turned on his heel and walked away. Tara questioned whether or not to stop him, but she let him go. Slowly, she made her way back to the limo. Jax and the boys waited quietly inside. She was surprised that Thomas had remained calm throughout.

"Hey babe," Jax said, sliding a muscular arm around her shoulders, "How's Nero doing?"

"As well as can be expected," she sighed. Her mind was racing. The way Nero moved away from her was so damned strange. She couldn't begin to understand it. _Grief has its way with people_. As she looked out the tinted window, she stared at Gemma's final resting place. She won the battle. She should have felt triumphant. She should have felt relieved. None of those feelings made up Tara Knowles Teller; if anything, the opposite was occurring. Despite what happened between Tara and her mother-in-law, she mourned the loss of Gemma Teller-Morrow.

Her boys lost their only grandparent. Her husband lost his mother, and with every breath Tara took, she knew how dangerous her life was. The killer had to know she was alive. The reprieve from the sink water wouldn't last long, and her memory wasn't cooperating. Every single cell in her body was highly aware of the importance of those recollections. Without them, Jax could go to jail, and she and the boys could die.

"What are you thinking about darlin'?" Jax questioned. She blinked and smiled emptily. She glanced at him, then her gaze fell on Abel and Thomas. _My boys. _ She would do anything for them.

"I'm just really blessed to have you," she choked out. Her voice was hoarse with tears as she looked back to her husband. Seeing this, Jax pulled her into his embrace and rocked her slowly. He adored her, and she knew it. He didn't have to say it; it was in the careful way he held her. It had taken a living hell for her to fully realize it, and that broke her heart.

"We're just as blessed to have you," he whispered in return.

She closed her eyes and let him hold her. Vulnerability had always been easy with Jax. It felt good to be protected and cherished. It felt good to have his arms encircle her. She didn't quite realize how much it meant to her until she almost lost it. She fought for her sons, and it almost cost Tara her life. She had lost sight of her husband's love, but she felt like he'd lost himself along the way too. Now, in one another's arms, she knew that they were right back where they belonged.

_Now if I can just remember, _she thought. _I'll be able to save us all. _


	5. Chapter 5

_Charming Mother and Sheriff Found Dead._

Juice knew the headline was true. After all, he'd seen the blood and the brains on the floor. He'd seen Gemma's lifeless form. He'd seen Eli's hauntingly beautiful death stare. He'd also seen Tara lying on the floor. At the time, he thought she was dead as well. Once again, Juice was wrong.

He was used to being a fuck up. It was etched in his DNA. His family never really hesitated to remind him of it, and after an entire lifetime of paying for mistakes, he just accepted the fact that he'd always be lesser. That's why he never really climbed the SAMCRO ladder; he was perfectly happy hanging by the wayside. It always suited him. It always made sense.

Until now. It made sense until he got blitzed out of his mind on Oxy and spilled Darvany's fate to Nero Padilla. Fear plagued him the moment Jax embraced him and made it well known that he felt betrayed by Juice's fucked up confessions. Juice knew he was a dead man. It no longer mattered what he said or did. It would take a miracle to get him out of the mess he was in.

_Miracles happen every day. _His grandmother Lydia, his father's mother, said it all the time. Once upon a time, when he believed in love and magic, when he still had hope, he thought miracles truly existed. He remembered her sitting on the stoop of their old Queens brownstone, her long skirts billowing around her. It didn't matter if it was a sweltering summer day or a frigid wintery one, her ancient, life-worn body would sit and wait for her son to come home.

"You'll see, my baby, you'll see. He'll come back." Juice could still see glimmer of hope in her black eyes. "He love you, Juan Carlos. He love his boy, yes he do. Love his Mama too." When he was little, he'd brave the elements and sit with her. By the time he was thirteen, he no longer believed in miracles, but Lydia never stopped. He didn't know where the hope came from, because his mother told him long ago that his father would never be back.

There were pictures of his father in Lydia's room. They adorned the walls, sat at her bedside. Juice would spend hours in there when he was little. He'd study the man who abandoned him for resemblances. They had the same smile, the same crinkle around the eyes. That is where the similarities ended. His father, a chocolate skinned Haitian, and his mother, a fair, dark eyed Puerto Rican, made the strange caramel mix that was Juan Carlos Ortiz. If it weren't for Lydia's very old, very sick self, he would have never known who his father was. Michael Cole left on December 27, 1980. Juice wasn't even a day old, but what stuck with him more was that he left Lydia behind. Poor Lydia, with her bad knees and her crooked back. Sweet Lydia, who would rock Juice to sleep at night. Wonderful Lydia, who still believed in the good in everything, even her irresponsible criminal son.

Now, in this parallel universe, where miracles no longer existed, and hope and happiness no longer mattered, Juice sat in a tiny, roach infested motel room, trying to forget he'd ever seen Gemma, Eli, or Tara. He tried to figure out his next move. He didn't kill any of them. He was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It was the story of his life. The weird quiet of the Gallery Motel had descended outside. He could hear the din of hookers outside. It was too early in the morning for full on fucking, and it was just after the mid-morning blow job rush, so the working girls sat and gossiped by his door. The low feminine sound did his heart good. He felt less alone with them nearby. Juice didn't do alone well.

Every time it got quiet outside, he would remember Jax and Tara's house. He would remember the sound of his rubber soled boots sticking to the wood. The rusty, metallic smell of the blood wafted into his nostrils, and it acted like adhesive against the soles of the shoes. He stood, stock-still and wide eyed, incredulously processing the scene before him. Gemma stared blankly at the ceiling, as did Eli.

"J…J…J…" The sound was strange and low, and it caught Juice's attention. _Tara. _He saw her for the first time. She lay face down on the floor, trying, in vain, to lift her head. Covered in filth and blood and soaked to the bone, she struggled to move. Juice froze. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was Tara to see him. The feeling of an all too familiar panic sank into his veins. He couldn't breathe. He could only stare as Tara tried to turn her head.

Without thinking, he knelt beside her. She turned her head away from him, and he gasped when he saw the wound on her temple. Her hands clutched the floor, and he watched, morbidly fascinated as her nails dug into the floor. A sob escaped her throat, and Juice's conscience begged him to help her. Slowly, carefully, he stroked Tara's sticky hair. She lowered her head to the ground again and closed her eyes. She reminded him of a beaten dog.

"I'm sorry," he croaked, tears welling in his eyes. He reached to grab her shoulder, but stopped. He knew what would happen once he turned her over. She'd blame him. He would be the first person she saw, and she would think he did it, and he'd be on the hook for not only Eli's murder, but Gemma's too. He remembered the frigid blue of Jax's eyes before they'd separated. He couldn't navigate them anymore, for they were an abyss of ice. He knew Jax wanted him dead, and he didn't want to be blamed for the collapse of SAMCRO, because Jax would want redemption, and it would tear everyone in the club apart.

"J…J…J…Jax? Is that you?" Tara's voice trembled terribly. Juice's heart shattered. His hand shook almost as much as her voice did.

"I didn't do this," he whispered. He almost didn't believe he'd spoken.

"Didn't d…d…do…w…wh…wha…what?" Tara stammered.

"This. I'm sorry, Tara." He stood to go. His boots made prints on the floor as he ran away. He slammed the door behind him.

He'd ran to Stockton after Jax's cold blue eyes cut through him. He'd run to the dirtiest, most disgusting hotel he could find. There was nothing about the half-lit sign or the dilapidated brick façade that made the Galaxy appealing, but its remote location amongst Stockton's lost souls was exactly what Juice needed. He came to clear his head, to figure out a game plan. Part of him was considering returning to Charming, to face Jax Teller head-on. He knew now wasn't the time. 

Clay's death was a painful and fresh memory, and that, combined with Jax's hatred and Gemma's murder, was enough to destroy him. The one thing he had was money in his pocket, and he'd just used it to buy the Oxy. It was more than enough to do what needed to be done. There would be no mistakes this time, no secret confessions. There would be no savior either. He chained the door and locked it. He deliberately pulled off his kutte and folded it neatly on the bed. He grabbed the Oxy and went to the sink. He noted the brown stains on the ancient porcelain and wondered how many others met the Reaper in this room. He carefully removed the coating from the pills, then with a spoon, he crushed them against the countertop. Once he was satisfied with the powder that remained, he scraped into a tiny plastic cup he'd found in the room. Filling the tiny cup a fourth of the way, he grabbed the syringe and drew the poisonous liquid.

His eyes reminded him of Lydia's. They reflected back at him as he spied his visage in the mirror. _Miracles happen every day, my baby. They do. _He closed his eyes and prayed for a moment. He prayed he'd see Lydia in Heaven, but he prayed that, if he went to Hell, he'd see his father there. Even now, he didn't know if the bastard was alive or dead, but he needed that prayer to be said, just in case.

_It's time. _He ruthlessly tied his arm off, and he tapped it with the opposite hand as he tried to find a vein. Discovering what he sought, he sobbed as he injected the lethal dose. He didn't even feel his body hit the floor before he lost consciousness. 

Juice was astounded when he woke. _Someone's pounding on the door._ It was dark outside. He had no idea what time it was, much less what day it was. His eyes focused on the dirty, dank carpet. A roach crawled across the brown shag, almost camouflaged. Juice lay there, transfixed by the tiny bug. _The last survivors on Earth_, he thought ironically. He was no better than the insect that forged a home by his side. _I should be dead. _

Another quick succession of hard knocks caused Juice to blink. His entire body felt like it'd been set aflame. His mouth was cracked and dry, and the sensation of broken glass and scalding kerosene filled his throat. He tried to prop himself up on his hands, but it was an impossible task. Pain stoked the flames of death within his chest.

The sound of keys jingling in the lock barely registered in his half-conscious mind. The gasp of the front desk clerk didn't matter. Her cries on the phone to the 911 operator were pointless. Juice knew now that he simply didn't deserve to live. As his heart stopped beating, he could feel his soul lighten. _I am free. _As he slipped away from the human world, he wondered why he'd feared this for so long.

There was nothing to be afraid of. As Death stealth began its assault, Juice Ortiz no longer worried about his last breath. Instead, he welcomed it.


	6. Chapter 6

"Mama! Come quick Mama! It's Tommy!" Abel's tiny voice cut through the night. Tara bolted upright in bed. It was strange having the cabin walls surrounding her. It made her feel disoriented, but her eyes and thoughts sharpened quickly with the sound of her son's cries. She flipped her legs over the bed and stood. Dizziness punched her in the head and gut, and as the room spun, she struggled to keep the contents of her stomach where they were.

"Mama! Please hurry!" The sound of a helpless Abel overcame the spinning room, and Tara rushed out and bolted across the hallway. She flung the door to the boy's room open. The crib was empty. Tears pricked Tara's eyes as their gaze darted to the window. It was closed. Panic clutched her chest in a tight, hard ball as she looked for her son.

"Look Mama, he's here!" Abel exclaimed. Tara turned in the direction of Abel's bed, which was behind her. Her heart almost exploded as she stared at the scene before her. _Oh my God, _she thought. _My boys. _

Abel sat in the center of his bed. His tiny body was illuminated in the moonlight. Thomas lay where she'd left Abel just a couple of hours ago. His blue eyes, eyes so like Jax's, stared at her. Tara neared the bed, and the tears that had welled in her eyes began to fall. Abel grasped Thomas' hand tightly as he beamed proudly at his mother.

"Tommy climbed outta his crib, Mama. He came to sleep with me!" Abel cried excitedly. The little boy's blue eyes danced as he stood up. "See Mama! I was a good big brother! I covered Tommy up so he wouldn't be cold, and I went and got his sippy cup from the 'frigerator, just like you do."

Tara sobbed. She came in expecting something terrible, and instead she found her boys doing what they did best: being brothers. Abel saw her crying, and his little brow furrowed. He grabbed his mother's hand and looked up at her.

"Did I do something wrong Mama?" Abel asked, terrified. Tears began to well up in his eyes as well. Tara reached down and scooped her son into her arms and hugged him tight. He hugged her back.

"No baby, no. You did a great thing. Mama just got scared when you yelled for me," Tara responded.

"Babe, is everything is okay?" Jax's sleepy voice filled the room. Tara turned to see her shirtless husband, clad only in an old pair flannel pants. His hair stuck up in crazy points. Abel began to giggle.

"Daddy, you look like Sonic," Abel laughed. Tara, unsure of what he meant at first, suddenly realized her son was referring to _Sonic the Hedgehog. _Happy had brought an ancient Sega over to the cabin, and Abel had been playing _Sonic_ for the last few days. It kept him busy when Tara was tending to Thomas or cooking or resting quietly on the couch, trying to coax her memory to life.

Tara glanced at Jax again, and she began to giggle too. The pointy, crazed blonde locks did resemble the little purple hedgehog. Jax entered the room and joined in the laughter, even though his sleep deprived body longed for his bed.

"What happened, Babe?" Jax asked, his eyes darted over to Thomas, who sat quietly in his brother's bed. Tara put Abel down and leaned into Jax's lean body. A protective arm wrapped around her waist.

"Our Thomas is an acrobat," Tara said softly. Love poured from her eyes as she watched Abel climb in bed with his younger brother. "He scaled his crib and climbed into bed with Abel."

"I covered him up and got his sippy Daddy!" Abel added, and Tara giggled.

"You're a great big brother," Jax said honestly as Abel beamed with pride. He let Tara go and crossed over to the boys. He sat on the edge of the bed. Abel smiled broadly at his father, as did Thomas. Both boys were the spitting image of their father, and Tara loved that. She'd always thought of herself as ordinary, and Jax's extraordinary good looks all but eclipsed any prettiness she might have had to offer. There still were days she wondered why he didn't choose those hot little Crow Eaters, because there were many that were stunningly beautiful.

Memories of Jax riding Collette rushed back, and every insecurity she had surfaced, but she swallowed the bitterness. Now was not the time or the place. She knew why Jax did what he did, and in the light of everything that had transpired since, that one transgression was a forgivable one. All she had to do was look at him with their sons, and she knew this was exactly where she needed to be.

"I guess we're gonna have to put the gates up and get a bed for this little monkey," Jax said as he tickled Thomas lightly. Their son giggled and stared up at Jax adoringly. Tara's heart stung a little; he baby was growing up. She couldn't believe how big Thomas was now. The boy grew like a weed, as did Abel, and she felt the familiar maternal pull of her emotions. _I want another baby with him. _She almost laughed out loud at the irony.

Less than a month ago, she'd been ready to leave him, to dive head first into Witness Protection. She was ready to turn rat to save her sons, and she wouldn't have even thought about having another child with Jax Teller. She knew better now. She knew he wanted to leave the club. She knew she wanted to save them all somehow, and she knew he would try his best. That was all that mattered to her now. Gemma's death was a turning point, and it made her realize what he meant to her, what _they_ meant to her.

She was his. She always would be. There was no turning away from it, no changing it. Whether Jax stayed or left, Tara knew that her future was a borrowed one, and she knew she belonged with them. She watched as Jax kissed their boys. He stood from their bed and left the room.

"I'll be right back," he said quickly. Within seconds, he was returned, a baby gate in hand. Tara stood, mouth agape, trying to figure out where it had come from.

"Gemma saved it," Jax explained, and Tara nodded. _Of course. _It made sense. _Gemma was always thinking of the boys. _Her gut wanted to collapse on itself again at the thought of her dead mother-in-law. Jax positioned the gate in the doorway and locked it into place. Tara didn't like the idea of Thomas in the bed with Abel, but Jax quickly comforted her.

"Babe, it's a toddler bed," he stated, gesturing towards Abel. She smiled in spite of herself. She'd forgotten for a moment that Abel still rested in a toddler bed while at the cabin. They hadn't brought a twin for him there. It still confounded Tara to have her baby out of a crib.

"Then we should get a big boy bed for Abel," Tara countered. Jax nodded. _A big boy bed. _Her heart skipped a beat. _They're growing too fast. _She stopped and said a silent prayer of gratitude. Fate had allowed her this moment, and as sad as it was for her, she was thankful for it.

"You're right. We have a toddler bed already, and the next logical step is a big boy bed. I guess we'll take the crib down." Jax stood on the other side of the gate and leaned against the doorframe.

"No, don't," she said softly.

"Babe, are you…?" Jax questioned, his eyes lighting up.

"No, I'm not," she said as she walked towards him, "But I think I would like to be, after all of this insanity calms down."

"As long as it is a favorable outcome," Jax returned, "I missed Thomas' birth because I was locked up. I won't do it again, Tara." She nodded in complete understanding. He kissed her forehead. She could hear his sharp inhale as he breathed her in. She closed her eyes and reveled in her husband.

_It will be a positive outcome, _she thought. _I am going to remember, and Patterson will get her pound of flesh. We will be safe. Finally safe. _She looked into his eyes. _He saved me. I have to return the favor. _She climbed over the gate and stood by Jax's side. They looked at their boys. Thomas had fallen asleep. Abel's eyes were wide open. He encircled Thomas' shoulders with his small arm. The sight took both Tara and Jax's breath away.

"I got this Mama. Daddy, go to bed. I'll make sure he's safe."

She felt Jax recoil at Abel's _I got this. _She remembered the tale of Opie's sacrifice, and she shuddered. Jax hid his pain well as he forced a big grin.

"You call us if Thomas needs a parent, okay buddy?" Tara said. Abel nodded.

"I'll scream the right way next time, so you're not scared," Abel answered, and Tara laughed. _He's such a smart, amazing little boy. I am so blessed to be his mama. _Jax squeezed Tara's shoulder, and they headed to their room. They laid in bed and stared at the ceiling as they entwined themselves in one another's arms.

"I love you, Tara," Jax whispered into the darkness. Tara pressed herself closer to him. Her eyelids were so heavy, and she couldn't fight the urge to fall asleep.

"I love you too, Jackson," she murmured as she slipped into dreams. Her heart began to race as her unconscious mind took over. It was the same scene she'd dreamt of for weeks now. She was in the kitchen, on the floor. She expected the same man to be standing next to her, but when she heard Gemma's voice, she froze.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Gemma questioned. Tara could hear the shakiness in her mother-in-law's voice. She could hear the nervous click of high heels as she walked on the wood floors. _She's pacing. _

"Are you going to answer me?" she asked. Silence filled the space. _No answer. _

"I didn't mean to do this," Gemma continued, not worried about the answer. "This was an accident. I just lost everything today: my son, my man, my grandsons. I came here, and there she was, the woman that started it all. In this house! _This house! _The bitch was turning rat, and she really thought she could come here, of all places?"

"She didn't turn rat, Gemma," a male voice explained calmly. Tara recognized it immediately. _Eli Roosevelt. _"Jax made a deal with Patterson so Tara didn't have to rat. He was turning himself in to save her and to save the club."

Another moment of silence, punctuated by nervous clicking heels. _Still pacing, Gemma? _

"What have I done?" she asked. It was then that Tara realized they thought she was dead.

"I have to call it in," Eli said slowly. More silence followed. Tara could hear the static rumble over the radio. "I have a…"

_Pop pop pop. _Three shots rang out in quick succession. Tara heard a body hit the floor. Gemma screamed. _Pop pop pop. _Three more. Gemma stopped screaming, but Tara could hear the older woman gasping for breath.

"What have you done, Gemma? What the hell have you done?" The question was so low, Tara wasn't sure she'd heard it. Gemma sobbed uncontrollably.

The phone was ringing. It vibrated against the nightstand as Tara fought to stay asleep. _I'm so fucking close! I just have to hear him again! _

"Babe, that's your phone," Jax stated sleepily. He turned on his side. Tara's eyes snapped open. She gritted her teeth in frustration and lightly pounded the mattress. She rolled over and grabbed the phone, not bothering to look at the number.

"Hello?"

"Tara? It's Margaret. I'm at St. Thomas. Dr. Christopher just asked me to call you. One of Jax's boys is in our ER. Overdose. You need to come now."

"What? Who is it?" Tara sat up in bed as she struggled to process the information.

"Juan Carlos Ortiz," Margaret answered. _Juice_.Tara sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Jesus Christ," Tara whispered into the phone.

"It doesn't look good Tara," Margaret continued. "Dr. Christopher told me he was asking for you."

"Me? Why? I don't know what he could possibly wa—"

"I don't either, Tara, but his vitals absolutely suck. I don't think he'll make it through the night. He's adamant he wants to see you."

"I'll wrangle up the boys. Jax and I will be down—"

"No Tara. No Jax. He wanted you and you alone." Tara's brow creased in confusion. "Don't bring Jax."

"Okay," Tara responded.

"See you soon," Margaret stated. She hung up.

"Jax, I have to go to St. Thomas."

"Aren't you on leave, Tara?" Jax's voice dripped with annoyance. He hated how St Thomas sometimes took precedent over his wife's peace and well-being.

"Yeah, but the case is a hard one, Jax. They need me." Jax grumbled under his breath.

"Alright, go. Just be careful."

"I will."

Tara stood and dressed quickly. She flew out the door and jumped in her car. As she careened into the night, she was struck by the inky blackness. There were no lights illuminate her way as she started the car. She backed down the driveway and drove off.

_The darkest hour always comes before the dawn. _Her mother used to talk about it, about the hour that came just before the sunrise. It was the time of night that brought the most despair. After being so close to knowing who shot Gemma, she felt a sense of hopelessness set in. _What if I never get there? _She thought of Jax in prison. She thought of her dreams, all but shattered. As the opaque night stretched out for miles in from of Tara, she tried to remain hopeful. She could only cling to that as she drove to St. Thomas. This moment was bad, but she would, eventually, remember. She just hoped it wasn't too late. She refused to give in or lose hope. _ I will get through this. I will remember. I will fucking win this time, and no one will be able to hurt me again_. Her mother instilled that determination in her, and it was fierce. She'd get through this moment, and she'd keep her family whole. After all, as her mother always reminded her moments like these weren't permanent. Eventually, a new day would come, and the darkness, as well as all the secrets and lies, would disappear.


	7. Chapter 7

"Thank you for coming Tara," Margaret Murphy murmured low. She smiled kindly up at Tara, who returned the kind gesture. They turned and slowly walked side-by-side down the long corridor. The petite red-headed administrator looked straight ahead towards the double doors that led to St. Thomas' Critical Care Unit.

"You're welcome," Tara returned. Her hazel eyes lingered on the tightly locked doors. "Can you tell me why I am here? I mean, I really shouldn't be, given everything that's…"

"Going on," Margaret finished. Tara nodded. Margaret sighed. She was sympathetic towards Tara's cause. Her mind wandered backwards to that now infamous night. She'd been home when she received the call. She had just finished loading the dishwasher when her cell buzzed in her pocket.

"Hello?" she said, exasperated. The hospital was annoying as hell sometimes. There was no time to be a wife or a mother; her every waking moment seemed to be absorbed in St. Thomas, and she was beginning to resent it more and more. She raked a semi-wet hand through her ginger hair as the other one gripped her phone.

"Margaret, it's Marie Christopher," the voice on the other end calmly. Margaret rolled her eyes. St. Thomas' newest ER physician was also quite the prima donna when she wanted to be. In the five months since Dr. Christopher's arrival, the ER had completely changed, and much of those changes could be attributed to the gorgeous, headstrong doctor. Margaret had been at the receiving end of many of the new physician's after hours tirades, and she simply wasn't in the mood for more.

"Yes, Marie, what can I do for you?" Margaret tried to maintain a sweet tone, but there was fire cutting her words. She couldn't help it. Marie Christopher made her skin crawl.

"I have a very bloody Tara Knowles in my ER." Typically, Margaret's blood would boil at the suggestion that the ER was anyone but hers, but the mention of Tara's name caused her blood to run ice cold. Flashbacks of she and Tara, tied back-to-back assailed her. She remembered Hector Salazar screaming at them. She remembered the glimmer of his gun as it pointed at them both.

_She saved me. _Margaret's brain ran away with thoughts unbidden. _She was pregnant with Thomas, and she saved me._ She knew this would happen. The last few weeks had been pure hell on her friend. She had tried so hard to escape the club, and she was so, so close. Margaret felt her throat catch at the prospect of a bloody Tara Knowles. _That goddamned club got her. _

"Margaret, are you listening to me?" Dr. Christopher's voice crackled over the line.

"Is...is Tara…" Margaret didn't want to say the word.

"She's alive, Margaret. She was beaten pretty good, but she's better than I expected after the call in we got. I expected her to be a DOA, but her mother-in-law got that distinction." Margaret's heart pounded with relief. _Tara is okay. She's not dead. She's alive. _She blinked and stared. _But Gemma is dead. _The mere thought was pure insanity.

Now, in the dark corridor outside CCU, Margaret laid eyes on Tara for the first time since that night. She hadn't gone to the funeral. It brought back too many memories of her own scandalous biker past, and she couldn't deal. She sent a spray of roses instead.

"Juice is his name, right?" Margaret asked.

"Juan Carlos sounds so formal," Tara returned. At first, she intended it as a joke, but the reality of his name set in: Juan Carlos was indeed too formal for the boy with the sweet smile. _Boy. _The word was the only one appropriate enough to describe Juice, even though he was the same age as she and Jax. They seemed light years apart. She couldn't believe she was here, alone, at his request.

Margaret nodded. "He's in terrible shape, Tara. Dr. Christopher was astounded he was alive, and truthfully, after what I read in his report, I am too. He had enough OxyContin to kill ten men."

"Jesus Christ," Tara whispered.

"Looks like there's fucked up crank in his system as well." Tara gaped at Margaret's colorful language. _Fucked up crank? Really, Margaret? _ It never ceased to amaze her. She smiled. _You can take the girl outta the biker gang, but you can't take the biker gang outta the girl. _ "Marie said that's what is contributing to his multiple organ failure."

"Marie?" Tara asked. Margaret sighed.

"Dr. Christopher," Margaret replied. The two women began walking towards the double doors. Margaret slid her ID through the scanner, and the doors flew open. They walked in and Margaret made a hard left. Juice was in the first bay; the curtain was partially pulled, and Tara winced as her eyes rested on the once sweet faced kid.

"Oh Juice," she said sadly. Her breath caught as she walked closer to him. He was asleep. He was a strange gray color, and Tara could see the signs of death creeping up his mottled hands. His lips were blue, and huge black circles shadowed his eyes. His cheeks, once plump with life and vitality, now appeared gaunt, and the sharp angle of his cheekbones cut into his cyanotic skin.

"I'll leave you alone with him, Tara," Margaret said quietly. Tara's nod was barely noticeable. "Call me when you're done. I'm sticking around." Again, Tara nodded. Margaret pulled the curtain closed as she left the room. Tara rested her hand on his, shocked at how frozen it felt to her touch.

"Juice?" Tara said gently. She squeezed his hand. His eyes, once a brilliant, beautiful brown, were hazy and unfocused. He glanced around the room before his eyes rested on Tara. A sad smile spread slowly across his lips as he clutched her hand.

"Hey doc," he whispered hoarsely.

"I'd ask how you're doing, but I already know," Tara talked to him like she talked to Abel. It was all about caring undertones and short sentences. "Why Juice? Why did you do this?"

Juice retained his boyish smile, but it was trapped in the face of a weary, haggard addict. It damned near broke her heart.

"I'd rather die by my own hand than the hand of your husband," Juice responded, and chills raced down Tara's spine. She had seen Jax kill. Stacks of dead bodies were etched on her soul, and some of those she had her husband to thank. Still, she didn't realize things had gone so badly between Jax and Juice. She was too caught up in trying to get out of Charming to worry about the strange subplots in her husband's club. Juice looked at Tara and shrugged slightly.

"Why would Jax-?" Tara began. She stopped when Juice held up his hand.

"It doesn't matter now," he said serenely. "We both know I'm living on borrowed time. Jax gets what he wants, after all, either by his hand or someone else's." Juice closed his eyes. Tara watched as he appeared to fall asleep again. She squeezed his hand once more. His eyes remained closed, but he began to speak.

"You must be wondering why I wanted you here," he said. Tara nodded, even though he couldn't see her do so.

"I wondered why you didn't want Jax here," she countered slowly. "But now that I know he wanted you dead, I—"

"It's not about that, Tara." His voice was low, so she grabbed a chair and sat. The closer proximity made it easier to hear him. "It's about you. I didn't want him here, because I wouldn't be able to say anything. You probably realize by now that your husband's presence fills the room before he even enters it. This life we're a part of, it's always about him and what he needs. This really has nothing to do with Jax Teller at all. I didn't see the need to ask him here, especially now."

Tara's forehead knitted in confusion. She didn't want to ask questions. She just wanted to listen.

"I saw you," he whispered brokenly. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. His frigid hands shook as he continued on. "I saw you on the floor. I saw you covered in blood. I spoke to you as lay face down on the kitchen floor."

"I thought you were Jax," Tara returned. She was trembling as hard as he was. _Juice did this? _Tara closed her eyes and shook her head. _No. I refuse to believe that. I cannot believe that. _Her eyes scanned the monitors that recorded his every move, and the doctor in her took over. _Blood pressure was 80/70. Pulse was 54. The mottling is spreading over his elbows now. _She gritted her teeth. _Oh my God, _she thought. _He's actively dying. _

"I didn't kill them, Tara," Juice said slowly. Tara exhaled with relief. For a moment, she thought that was what he summoned her there for. Deathbed confessions were not her strong suit. _Just ask Otto, _her conscience cried. Memories of the suicidal SAMCRO biker screamed in her skull. She shivered.

"Do you know who did?" she questioned. Juice shook his head quickly.

"I wish I did." Juice's lips were darkening as they stretched into a tight line. "I came in after it was done. Whoever did it was long gone." Tara wanted to cry in frustration. Scared and uncomfortable, she scanned the room for a slight diversion. Her eyes spied a pair of black combat boots, and her mind flashed with recollections. _Those were the boots I saw. _

"I'm sorry, Tara," Juice croaked. _His was the voice I heard. _Her throat burned with unshed sobs.

Her mind raced with flashes of memories. _The pop of the gun_. _Gemma's screams. Eli's voice. _All the memories were ones she already knew, nothing new. _Just the same goddamned shit I already know! _Her fingers tightened around Juice's bedrails and scalding hot tears fell down her face.

"If you know nothing, then why did you ask me here?" Tara asked with more force than she intended. Her hazel eyes were blurry from crying, and her stomach churned with nausea. She quickly swallowed the urge to vomit. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, but it did little to abate the sick feeling.

"I have to make things right, Tara," Juice's eyes, always so soulful, were fading. Tara scanned the monitors again. _Blood pressure 74/50. Pulse 16. _She was surprised Juice could even speak, much less speak so coherently. She shook her head as her eyes caught the sign above Juice's bed. Huge, red letters reading _DNR_ rested above Juice's head. _Do Not Resuscitate. _

"You signed a DNR, Juice?" Tara queried. Juice nodded.

"I don't want to live, Tara. Not without my club." His voice was flat and calm. His eyes were starting to droop. _There's not much time. _Tara inhaled deeply.

"Juice, I can talk to Jax, I—" Juice shook his head.

"Don't, Tara. It's too late. I'm okay with my choice." He reached out and squeezed her hand. His skin was arctic. "Do you have your phone?"

Tara nodded. She pulled it out of her pocket, unsure of why it was necessary.

"Get a nurse, a doctor, anyone. I need another witness," he instructed. His breathing was shallow. Tara rushed out to the hallway. Dr. Christopher and Margaret stood at the nurse's station. They looked as if they were in a heated conversation, but Tara didn't care.

"Margaret, can you come help me?" Tara called. Margaret left Dr. Christopher mid-sentence and walked almost eagerly to Tara. Together, they entered Juice's room. Tara drew the curtain tightly closed around them.

"Do you have a phone, Red?" Juice wheezed, his eyes glued to Margaret. She nodded, just as Tara did seconds ago.

"Take it out, Margaret. Please." Tara's urgent voice spoke. Margaret took it out.

"Film this," Juice ordered. Margaret and Tara turned their phones on. They both stood in front of Juice, eyes fixated on his face. He was now a strange shade of grayish blue, but he continued on.

"My name is Juan Carlos Ortiz. Yesterday, I injected my body with a lethal dose of OxyContin. I, as you can see, did not die, but it was only a short reprieve." A ironic smile spread across Juice's face. Tara opened her mouth to speak, but seeing Juice's labored breathing, she stopped.

"I want to die. I have turned on my club, and I deserve this punishment." Juice licked his lips at the end of the sentence. He was breathing like he'd run a sprint. Tears filled Margaret's eyes. Images of her long lost life gripped her heart and wouldn't let go. She struggled to keep the camera upright.

"You see, Jackson Teller wants me dead," he continued. Tara bit her tongue. His eyes stared straight at her as he spoke the next sentence. "I went against the club. For the last year, I have been running guns for the Byz Lats behind Teller's back. I am the one who obtained the KG-9s, and I am the one who placed them in the hands of Arcadio Nerona. His girlfriend Darvany is the mother of boy that shot that school up."

Tara couldn't breathe. She couldn't believe what Juice was saying. She didn't know the details of the school shooting, nor did she want to, but she also knew that the words leaving Juice's mouth were blatant lies.

"SAMCRO had no idea what I was doing. I told no one of my plans. I didn't want Jax as my president. Without Clay, I chose other options. Jackson learned of what I was doing after Arcadio and Darvany took off," Juice stated. His eyelids were falling, but he still managed to look at Tara and Margaret. "And he made no secret of his hatred for me. I fled to Stockton, where I checked in a motel and wondered what the fuck to do with myself. I knew Jax might turn me in—or just kill me. I just beat him to it."

A beautiful smile glossed over Juice's features as tears filled his eyes.

"Jackson, I am sorry for betraying you. Tell Chibs I love him." The confession was over. He gasped for air. Tara handed her phone to Margaret as she rushed to his side. She glanced at the monitors. His blood pressure plummeted, as did his pulse, and they weren't reading on the screen. Tara lost her breath as her fingers skimmed his throat in search for the pulse. It was barely there. She reached for the oxygen by Juice's bedside.

"Don't Tara," he whispered. Those brown eyes begged, and she listened.

"Juice, please…" She began to weep. They'd never been close. Never. But their lives were destined to flow into one another, and she couldn't help but remember him in better days.

"Just hold my hand, Tara," he croaked. "I just don't want to die alone."

Tara found Juice's hand and held it gently. She ran a hand over his head. She continued rubbing, and a faint smile etched his face. She smiled sadly.

The monitors screamed as Juice's heart stopped. Tara squeezed Juice's hand tightly.

"He's going into cardiac arrest," a strident voice filled the room. Margaret turned.

"Yes, Dr. Christopher, he is. He's a DNR, as you know."

"Yes, Margaret, I am well aware of _that._ Someone has to call the time of death. Who's the doctor here, you or me?" The physician rested her hands on her hips and glared at the administrator.

"Both of you: shut the fuck up." Tara's voice was stone cold. "This man is dying, and I will not let your bitchiness be the last thing he hears before he leaves this Earth. You can call it when he's dead. As of this second, Juan Carlos Ortiz is still breathing, if only barely."

Marie Christopher was speechless. She opened her mouth to speak, but Tara's hazel eyes were fire as she stared at the doctor. Tara turned her attention back to Juice as the sound of a flatlining heart filled the air. She wept freely, unashamed of her tears. She gasped as she felt his fingers tighten slightly around hers.

Then he was still. There was no breathing, no movement, no words. More importantly, there were no worries, no pain, and no sadness. Juice was free. Marie moved behind her, shutting the loud machines off. There was silence. Margaret didn't move; she just stood at the end of the bed, convinced she was seeing a ghost.

"Time of death: 12:27 am." Dr. Christopher's voice was low as she wrote the time of death in Juice's chart. Tara pulled her fingers carefully from his. She wiped the tears from her eyes as she walked towards Margaret. Wordlessly, she returned Tara's cell.

"You know how to find me," Margaret reminded her, "When you're ready."

Tara knew what she meant. She watched Margaret slide her phone in her pocket. It amazed her how they could speak without exchanging words. She nodded awkwardly as guilt assaulted her. She wanted to stay. She wanted to hold his hand a moment longer. She wanted him to know he had a purpose, but it felt like a lie. It felt wrong. Juice was a man. He was SAMCRO, and at the end, he died for that club. Other than that, what legacy was left behind? Just one of carnage and senseless death, nothing more. He wasn't like Jax or Chibs or Bobby or even Tig; they all had children. He had nothing. There was no one outside of the club she'd have to call. Her heart was broken, but it would do no good to stay and watch as Juice was zipped into a body bag. Without a backward glance, Tara walked past her boss and left Juice's room. Her sneakers squeaked slightly as she walked down the hallway.

Her soul was bruised all to hell. The moments she just witnessed—Juice's final moments—were horrific, but what hurt more was that she was leaving St. Thomas with more questions than she'd come in with. She was no closer to finding Gemma and Eli's killer, and to top that off, Juice unleashed a Pandora's Box of secrets that made no sense.

The night air felt good on her skin as she walked to the car. She climbed in and clasped her seatbelt shut, and as she cranked the car to life, she knew what her next move needed to be.

Charming was so quiet at night. There was no noise, no tremble of life. Everything pretty much shut down at ten and didn't wake again until seven the next morning. It had been that way her entire life, and now, more than ever, she welcomed it. It helped her clear her mind, and she definitely needed it. She drove slowly down the streets, letting her memories find her. As she drove, she let the smiles and the tears fall where they needed to. It felt good to drive alone. She hadn't done it since that night, and she didn't realize how much she missed it.

She sighed as she drove down the most familiar street of all, and her heart felt heavy as she pulled into the driveway. _I'm home._ The lights were out; not even the porch light remained on. The grass was in desperate need of cutting, and the shrubs definitely needed some tender loving care. She cut the car off, determined to not let her throbbing heartbeat or sweaty palms deter her. She stepped out of the car and walked towards her front door. She hesitated for a moment as her fingers grasped the doorknob, and when she turned it, she was shocked to see the door open.

_No one bothered to lock it. _The thought should have scared her, but it didn't. All she could think of was the memories the place held. Pictures of Jax and Abel and Thomas flooded her psyche, as did the ghosts of Clay and Opie and Donna. A chill covered her body as she stepped inside, but she accepted it. Tara knew that to remember, she'd have to resurrect all the ghosts that hid both in her mind and in her old house, no matter what it brought in return.


	8. Chapter 8

Tara flicked the light switch. The room was filled with a soft glow that she'd all but forgotten. Everything looked the same; the boys' toys were scattered across the living room. The couch looked as comfortable as ever. Tara walked slowly, taking in the place she called home. Part of her loved being here, but her pounding heart and her racing brain reminded her of why she'd been at the cabin so long.

_Gemma wanted me dead. _Tara closed her eyes. She took a few short breaths as she tried to collect herself. Her fingers gripped the back of the couch. For a moment, her chest felt as if it would explode, but the shallow breathing helped. She placed her purse on the couch, just as she had the night of Gemma's murder. The gravity of the movement wasn't lost on her.

_I'll recreate my steps. _She smiled. _I'll remember better if I am back in the moment. _She inhaled deeply. _I'll remember what happened. I will._ She stood by the couch a second longer, then she advanced towards the kitchen. The strong smell of bleach burned her nose as she reached for the light switch. Light illuminated the room. _It's perfect. _The hardwood floor was gleaming. The counters were spotless. If Tara hadn't known better, she would have never known anything had ever happened.

"I knew you would be back." Tara's skin prickled with goosebumps. The familiar voice spoke softly; there was no malice, no intimidation. The observation was a simple one; if anything the voice was filled with resignation. Still, Tara stiffened. It was a natural reflex.

"Wendy, what are you doing here?" Tara turned and faced her husband's ex-wife. Dressed in a loose fitting white peasant blouse and skin tight bell-bottom jeans, even Tara had to admit she looked good. Her long honey colored locks hung loose and cascaded in soft waves down to her hips. She leaned against the wall, hands in her pockets, and stared at Tara with her sharp, almost ebony eyes.

"Hiding out," Wendy responded simply. "I'm supposed to be in rehab, thanks to you."

"Thanks to me?" Tara questioned. "Are you out of your mind?" Wendy smiled and uncrossed her arms. Her hand now rested on her hip.

"Yes, thanks to you," Wendy countered. She stood upright and walked towards Tara. Even though her heart pounded, she stood her ground. Wendy was within a few inches of her.

"Your lies made me relapse. Your bullshit made me question everything I'd come to terms with. When I came back to Charming, I came back to see my son, to maybe have a chance of being with him. In the time since then, I have conspired with you to get custody of the boys. I've gone against the club, against Gemma, against every single person in Abel's family in the hope that you would help me."

Tara leaned against the counter in order to put distance between them. Wendy, noticing this, backed up.

"My lies didn't make you relapse, Wendy. You did that all on your own." Tara's voice took on a coldness she didn't expect. "Maybe if you spent less time blaming everyone around you and took more time getting well, you'd have your son in the way you wanted."

A frigid laugh erupted from Wendy's lips. She crossed her arms under her breasts and locked narrowed eyes on the other woman.

"I love how you look down on me, Tara. Do you realize what chaos you live in? I mean, in the time I was away, Abel was kidnapped. You were almost killed by Clay and Gemma almost killed _both_ boys and herself. When I attempted to get my son back, his wonderful, beautiful father injected me with a speedball and brought back the wounds of addiction. Do you think for one second that I started this on my own? Fuck you. Fuck you and that bastard husband of yours."

Tara stood upright in an effort to breathe. _Jax injected Wendy with heroin? _Her soul collapsed under the weight of that knowledge. Her heart pounded mightily within her chest, and she walked across the kitchen. She walked to the kitchen table, pulled a chair and sat down. Wendy's words made her head spin. Wendy didn't move. She maintained her confrontational stance.

"Yet when you needed help, I was there, Tara. When jail seemed to be your future, I lied like hell to help you. I had no reason to help you, but I had every reason to help Abel, and I did."

"Wendy, I…" Tara stammered. Wendy held up a hand.

"What Tara? What? I didn't want my son to go into the Witness Protection Program, and as much as I hated Jax, I didn't want you turning on the club. It's all Jax had; it's all Abel had, and if you're honest with yourself, Tara, it's all Thomas has too. You were taking that from them. I knew that, once I was in that lockdown facility, I would never see my son again."

"The only thing I took from them was the violence, Wendy," Tara whispered. "It was too dangerous to stay. I did what I had to do."

"So why aren't you in Witness Protection?" Wendy asked. Tara blinked. She ran her hands over the worn denim of her jeans as she rocked back and forth. "Why aren't you protecting those boys now?"

Tara had to admit, Wendy asked a good question. She'd been so focused on finding Gemma's killer and healing from her mother-in-law's attack that she thought little of what could happen _after_. _What if Jax doesn't leave SAMCRO? Will I be back in jail one day? Will he? Will we end up dead? What about my boys? What happens to them?_ Tara began to cry. _I let my love for you cloud my judgment, Jax. Again. _Sobs racked her body.

"I don't know," Tara hiccupped. It was an honest response.

"I know why," Wendy responded softly. She walked towards Tara and squatted down in front of her.  
>"I know better than you think I do." She grasped Tara's hands.<p>

"Do you?" Tara countered. Wendy nodded.

"I'm not in rehab," Wendy said.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Tara asked through gritted teeth.

"I didn't get there. I couldn't go there and no say goodbye to Abel. I couldn't go knowing I'd never see my son again. I left before I ever checked in."

Tara's mind tried to wrap itself around Wendy's words, but nothing she was saying made any sense. Wendy stood and turned away from her, pacing as she did so. Her hands were on her hips as she walked. Tara watched as Abel's mother wore holes in her hardwood floors.

"You see, Tara, we all have a mission in this life. For a long time, I thought mine was to be a fuck up. God knows, I was good at it." Wendy looked up at the ceiling as she walked. "You were meant to heal people. That's why you are a doctor."

"Wendy, I can't heal anyone anymore." Wendy stopped and looked at Tara. She twisted a lock of hair around her index finger. It was strange movement, and Tara wondered if Wendy realized she was doing it.

"I noticed." Wendy's response was cold as it fell on Tara's ears. "I always thought that made you better than me; you know, the MD behind your name. But you fell just like I did, except with a different addiction."

"It does make us different…" Tara said slowly, allowing her voice to trail off.

"No, it doesn't, Tara. Those letters don't mean a goddamned thing when you're under Jax Teller's spell. You have degree after degree, but we are no different. We both love Jax. We both love the club, even if you won't admit that to yourself. You do. We are driven by this fucked up sense of loyalty. I accepted it long ago. You haven't."

"Then why aren't you in rehab, Wendy? If you know this place is poison, why aren't you getting better, so you can take Abel from me, from the club?" Wendy shook her head as her eyes filled with emotion.

"I came back to say goodbye, Tara. I came here to look at my son one last time, to say goodbye to him before you whisked him into a normal life, a life I would never be a part of. I came here and sat in his room, waiting for you to show up."

Tara stared at Wendy, mouth agape. She was speechless. _She was here that night too?_ The thought was too much to bear.

"I rocked in that old glider rocker and waited. I saw Eli's car bring you home. I heard the door shut," Wendy explained. "I didn't know what to say. Here I was, an intruder in this house, sitting like a stalker in Abel's room. All the bravery I had was gone. It was gone."

Wendy began to shake. Tara watched as Wendy placed her hands on the countertop. She lowered her head. Tara wanted to get up, to comfort her, but she wasn't sure what she was comforting her for.

"I heard the door shut again," Wendy recounted. "I was terrified. I'd told her I'd go to rehab. If she knew I left, there's no telling what she would do."

Tara's heartbeat hammered in her ears. _She was here. She was here. She was here. _She kept repeating it over and over again in her head. _Wendy was here. _

"I heard screams. Some were yours and some were Gemma's. It happened so quickly, I didn't know what to do. I went into your room."

"Why would you do that?" Tara's voice didn't sound like her own. It sounded hollow and distant, like someone else.

"Believe it or not, Jax is predictable. I knew where his guns were."

"Top of the closet, in the wooden box," Tara murmured. She knew that hiding place well. Tara actually tried to run there herself, but Gemma had stopped her.

"The one that JT gave him," Wendy finished. Tara nodded. "I was relieved to see it there. I grabbed it and walked out to the living room. Eli was standing between me and the kitchen, and that's when I saw you on the floor, bloody and dead."

Tara fought back the urge to vomit. Her stomach rumbled and growled. She felt dizzy, even though she was still sitting. Her hands were cold and clammy as she clenched and unclenched them.

"Eli said he was going to call it in. I saw Gemma standing there, and she saw me." Wendy's voice was breaking. A torrent of tears fell down her face. "The SAMCRO instinct kicked in. I shot Eli Roosevelt. There was no hesitation."

"How could you do that Wendy? You're not a killer." Tara was dumbfounded. To her knowledge, Wendy never hurt anyone. It wasn't in her blood to kill. _It's not in my blood either,_ she thought sadly. _But I've killed. I've murdered. All in the name of SAMCRO._

"I don't know, Tara," Wendy said honestly. "Gemma kept looking at me. She stared holes through me."

"What happened next Wendy?" Tara asked. Wendy stood straight and tall as she turned to meet Tara's eyes. Rivers of mascara streaked her face. She didn't bother wiping them away.

"Eli fell to the ground," Wendy began. "He was dead. I was disgusted with myself. I dropped the gun and sat on the coffee table. I was scared to death. Gemma walked over to me and hugged told me she didn't know why I was here, but she was glad I was. She thanked me, told me she was proud of me." Tara couldn't handle those words. The contents of her stomach boiled and trailed up her throat. She stood and retched in the garbage can. Her belly emptied of its contents, she stood. Vertigo took over, and it caused her to stumble. Wendy rushed to her side and caught her before she fell.

"Tara, sit," Wendy said quietly. Tara met her eyes. They were genuinely concerned. It never ceased to amaze her, this relationship she had with Wendy. One moment, they were ready to tear one another's throats out; the next, they cared for the other. Tara silently wondered if they would ever have a normal relationship. She wondered if they could parent Abel together. She didn't know if they could.

"What happened after that, Wendy?"

"I asked Gemma what happened. She said she'd found you like this, and that Eli overreacted." Tara gritted her teeth and shook her head.

"That's when I confronted her and told her I heard you two fighting," Wendy continued. "She still denied it. When I questioned her again, she got pissed. She started talking about how she could trust no one, how we were all trying to take the club down."

"That's Gemma, paranoid until the end," Tara noted.

"I tried talking to her logically. She wasn't having it. She started pacing and talking to herself. When that didn't work, I tried reasoning with her and told her that we had to leave. I told her the cops were probably on their way. She agreed. She said she would leave. She told me to grab her bag from the hallway, and I did. When I came back, she met me. With the gun."

Tara wasn't surprised. It sounded exactly like something Gemma would do.

"I expected her to shoot me," Wendy said. "I expected her to run and leave me to blame. I expected a lot of different scenarios."

"Well, you're still here," Tara said matter-of-factly. "In fact, no one even questioned where you were over the last few weeks." Wendy looked down. She seemed ashamed. When she looked back up, Tara saw tears glistening in her eyes.

"I happened to be on the right side of Gemma's anger. I'd saved her life and killed the sheriff. In one fell swoop, I protected her, the club, and her boys. She thought you dead, as did I. There was nothing for either one of us to lose at that point." Tara sighed and shook her head. _What I wouldn't give to have been able to talk that night. What I wouldn't have given to sit up, to let them know I was alive. _

"She told me to go," Wendy finished. "She told me to get the fuck out and to get to rehab. She said she'd explain the sheriff. That I would be free. All I would have to do was walk away. She would take care of it all. She told me not to look back. She told me the boys would be here when I got back."

"So you left? You left Eli, bleeding out? You left me behind, without checking if I was alive or dead? You just took Gemma's word for it?"

"_You looked dead, Tara," _Wendy emphasized. "You weren't moving. You didn't look like you were breathing. I have this crazy bitch, _the bitch that almost killed you_, pointing a gun at me, telling me to get the fuck out. And I just killed Eli. Do you think I would be able to recover from that? I cut my losses. You would've done the same."

Tara shook her head. She refused to believe that she would have cut her losses. She didn't want to think she'd be anything like Wendy, given the same situation.

"So you went to rehab? Just like that?" Tara was incredulous. Wendy shook her head.

"I tried to leave. I was on my out the door when it swung open. I thought it was the cops. I thought Gemma and I were caught. I thought we'd both be heading to prison; Gemma for killing you, and me for killing Eli."

"It wasn't the cops?" Tara asked. _How long could it have possibly taken for them to get there?_

"No," Wendy responded. "It wasn't Charming PD. It wasn't Eli's guys. I didn't expect anyone else, honestly. I was shocked when…"

"When what, Wendy?" Tara's mouth was dry, and her throat begged for water. She ignored the sensation as her eyes scanned Wendy's face.

"When Wayne walked in. He came to check on her, and he wasn't alone."

"Who was with him?" Tara asked. Part of her, the part of her that remembered that day better than she realized, knew the answer. She heard the voice in her ears, and her dormant memories were resurrected back to life. Tara squeezed her eyes shut as her pulse jumped. She knew the next name better than she knew her own. It was his voice that brokenly questioned her. It was his voice that broke as he learned the truth. It was his voice that rang in her ears as the shots fired into Gemma's skull. It was the sound his heartbroken tears that made her break down. She buried her face in her hands as it all came back. She remembered. She remembered everything.

"It was Nero, Tara. Wayne brought Nero with him."


	9. Chapter 9

"Wayne…and Nero?" Tara's voice formed the question, even though her brain already gave her the answer. Wendy nodded in affirmation. Her belly rumbled again as she closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply, trying to keep the nausea at bay. It didn't work. She rose again and ran to the garbage can. She emptied the contents of her stomach once more, as Wendy stared at her.

"Are you getting sick?" Wendy asked candidly. Tara's hazel eyes were fiery as they stared at her counterpart. She stood and walked over to the sink. She turned the water on and washed her hands. She turned the water to cold and splashed some of it on her face. She grabbed some paper towels and wiped her hands, then she pressed the towel to her mouth.

"No, I'm not getting sick." Wendy's eyebrows raised in question, and Tara rolled her eyes and groaned. "No, I'm not pregnant either! I think my body can't stand any more shock," Tara countered. In the last few hours, she'd watched Juice confess untruths, watched him die, and she came home for some answers, which she found in Wendy. Still, the last thing she'd expected were confessions and memories to resurface. Her stomach was always the first betrayer when she was upset, and this time, it was no exception.

Wendy nodded. She understood. Her stomach had been a wreck since Gemma's death, as had the rest of her. Her hands still shook. She wondered if they'd ever stop. She'd been clean since that night, but her body still craved the heroin she was running from. Wordlessly, she tucked her shaky hands neatly into the pockets of her jeans, content to forget about them for the moment. Tara looked as bad Wendy felt. She watched as Tara quietly walked back to the kitchen table and sat. Her huge hazel eyes stared holes into Wendy's soul.

"What happened when they came?" Tara asked. Wendy had no idea she remembered anything yet. As it stood, she only knew what she heard. She needed Wendy's eyes to see. She needed to know that her addled brain wasn't playing tricks on her. She needed to know what she heard was true. Wendy's dark eyes looked deep and vacant as she stared at the floor. Tara immediately knew that her mind was recreating the scene, that she saw everything just as she had that night.

"I didn't expect them to come," Wendy began. "And I think they were just as surprised to see me. I mean, the last Wayne saw, I was going into the rehab facility. I hadn't seen Nero in days…but that moment was full of things I didn't account for. I should've known better. I should've known that coming here would only bring insanity and chaos." She stood still for a moment, and she met Tara's eyes.

"You didn't know what was going to happen," Tara said gently. "You had no idea. You came here to say goodbye to Abel."

"Yes. Yes, I did," Wendy said absently. Her voice was barely above a whisper. Her hands had ceased their crazed movement. "I just needed my son. That's all I needed."

"I can understand that." Tara rubbed her hands together. She was suddenly freezing.

"I think they were just as shocked to be there as I was," Wendy said quietly. "They were definitely shocked to see me, but once Wayne saw you, it was like I wasn't even there."

Tara could hear Wayne's voice ringing in her ears.

"What the hell have you done, Gemma?" The tears made Wayne's voice crack. He was met with silence. Tara gritted her teeth. _Of course, Gemma. Of course. The minute you're caught you shut the fuck up. _She remembered how her skull ached as she tried to move.

"Wayne, we have to go," Wendy said. Her voice bubbled with fear.

"You're not leaving Wendy," Nero's voice filled the tense air.

"I didn't know what to do, Tara," Wendy said, breaking Tara's reverie. "He stood in front of me. Not Gemma. Me. Wayne grabbed Gemma. She'd tried to run, but he stopped her. I expected her to deck him and to run, but she stopped. She didn't fight him. She just stood there, silent."

Tara laughed. It was a harsh, bitter sound. "Gemma was silent?" Wendy nodded.

"Wayne kept yelling at her, asking her why. He told her that Jax was going to prison to protect the club. He told her you didn't have to die. He was crying. I swear to God, Tara…it was the most pitiful sound I've ever heard."

Tara remembered that sound. It was gut-wrenching.

"You can't even fucking answer me, even now," Wayne's voice trembled. He sounded resigned. Tara had never heard him sound so resigned.

"I'd answer you if I had an answer," Gemma whispered. Her voice was gravel. It was raspy and strained. "But I don't have one. I don't have a fucking answer."

"Of course you don't, Gemma," Nero's voice was thick with disgust. "You just rip everything apart and expect it to magically come back together when you need it to."

"Nero, stop," Wendy whispered.

"No, I won't stop," Nero said firmly, "Her son is exactly the same way! Jax Teller, the goddamned King of Charming spawned from the Queen Bitch herself! The man that kills on a whim, regardless of the consequences. The man that thinks life is just careless chance! I wonder where the fuck he got that from?"

"Nero!" Wayne yelled, but Gemma's lover went on.

"What Wayne? What?! You're going to protect her, just like you always do, and she's going to protect Jax, like she always does."

"Nero, I…" Gemma stammered. "Please understand, I…"

"There's nothing to understand, Gemma!" Nero screamed. "Look at what you've done!"

"I'd never seen Nero like that," Wendy whispered. Tara stopped retreating into her own memories. Wendy sat down next to her. She was burying her face in her hands, and her long dirty blonde hair hung like a curtain in front of her face. _I have to listen, _she thought calmly. _Focus, Tara. _

"Like what?" Tara queried.

"Enraged. He looked like hell, Tara. His eyes were wide and bloodshot, like he'd been crying. He walked towards you like he was in a trance. He didn't speak. He just…he just…"

"Knelt beside me," Tara finished. "He knelt beside me and stroked my hair. He told me he was sorry. He was crying." Tara felt as if she'd been kicked in the gut. Her breath came in short, quick gasps. She stared at the table, unable to believe the jumble of emotions that resonated within her. Wendy reached out and grasped Tara's hands and nodded.

"We all were, Tara, even Gemma," Wendy said.

"Gemma was crying over me?" Tara countered.

"If I'm honest with myself, and with you, I would say I don't know to that question. I think she was crying because you were dead. I think she was crying because her life, as she knew it, was over. That's why she tried to run."

Tara's heart hammered against her sternum. "She tried to run?" Wendy nodded.

"She tried to bolt out the door. Wayne grabbed her." Tara exhaled heavily. _Just when I thought you had a soul, you stupid bitch. Thank you Gemma, for tricking me again. _

"She pushed him. It was just strong enough to knock him over." Wendy's voice was thick with her memories. Tara removed her hands from Wendy's and stood. She walked away and stood by the sink. She leaned heavily against it and stared at the place where she'd laid just weeks before. If she closed her eyes, she could smell the blood and death. She could feel the weight of Nero hands on her shoulder. Flashes of the broken man, the man at Gemma's funeral, blurred her vision.

"I'm sorry, Tara. You didn't deserve this." Tara heard the broken baritone resonate in her ears. If she tried hard enough, she could feel his tears slip on to her skin. She could feel her fingers curl as she tried to turn over. Her heart pounded against harder within the confines of her ribs. Her entire world began to spin around. She squeezed her eyes shut. Her breath was shortening.

_Pop pop pop. _The gunshots rang out in the air. Wendy's scream echoed off the walls. She would always remember that sound. She'd always remember Wayne's plaintive cry. _This is the first time I have ever wished I was dead, _she thought. _If I were dead, I wouldn't have to remember that sound. _

"I didn't have a choice. She had to die." Tara's eyes opened. She was panting. Her lungs felt full of cotton. Wendy stood in front of Tara. Her face was soaked with tears and shame.

"I had no choice, Tara." Wendy stood straight. "She was just going to keep hurting people. That's what she did. She just kept hurting. Her fucked up morals and values were going to kill us all. They poisoned JT and Clay. You can't deny the grip they have on Jax…"

"You killed Gemma?" Tara croaked. She couldn't believe it.

"Yes, I did," Wendy stated.

"I don't understand," Tara returned.

"She was trying to run," Wendy said slowly. "I had to stop her. When I saw her push Wayne, I knew she was going to get away with…killing you."

"But I…"

"You weren't dead. I know. But I knew that, if she ran, she'd eventually come back. She'd lie her way back into Jax's life, and she'd get to my son."

"But how…"

"The gun. I'd dropped it a few feet away from Eli's body. When I saw her break free, I grabbed it, and I didn't think. I pulled the trigger. She fell to the floor. The bullet went through her skull."

Tara's body shook as she gasped for air. Her entire body felt hot as she struggled to breathe. She remembered the feeling. It was exactly what she felt as she fought Gemma. The sensation was identical to being suspended under the water.

"Tara, are you okay?" Wendy's voice was filled with concern. Tara barely registered the sound as she sank to the floor.

"Tara? Oh my God, Tara…" Wendy looked helplessly around the room. Tara sat against the cabinets. Her face was stark white. Her hazel eyes stared blankly out at Wendy. Wendy didn't hesitate. She ran to Tara's bag and searched through it. The phone was in a small pocket inside. It was one of Jax's burners. Wendy didn't care; she picked it up and dialed 911.

"Charming 911, what is your emergency?"

"Please, come quick," Wendy's voice echoed through the kitchen. "She can't breathe. She can't breathe." Wendy knelt by Tara. The doctor's eyes began to flutter and roll backwards in their sockets.

"Who can't breathe, ma'am?" the operator asked.

"Tara Knowles. 1227 Banks Street. Charming. Please hurry." Wendy hung up the phone and knelt by Tara's side. Tara was unconscious. Terrified, Wendy placed her hand on Tara's chest. She felt Tara's heart hammer beneath her fingers. Tara's breath was raspy, but she was breathing. Wendy exhaled a sigh of relief.

"I know you understand, Tara," Wendy whispered. "I know you do. I couldn't let her win. I couldn't let her hurt our sons. You have a chance to get out of all of this. I never did. I know you would've done the same, if you'd been in my shoes."

Sirens blared in the distance. Wendy's hands began to shake again. The trembled fiercely as she stroked Tara's hair. As the ambulance neared, Wendy knelt and kissed Tara's forehead. There had been a time she hated Tara Knowles. When she wanted to turn to Witness Protection, Wendy questioned the motives, but now, kneeling on the kitchen floor, she understood. There was nothing good about Charming. There was nothing good about SAMCRO. Too many demons rested within this place, and maybe Tara would have a chance to free her son. She knew it was far too late to save her own soul.

"Just get out of here, Tara. Please." The words were her last to Tara before snuck out the backdoor. She ran out of the backyard and rushed down the street. Once she felt safely out of view, she turned and looked back. The lights of the ambulance glittered against the black sky. Blue and red reflected off the windows of the place she'd once called home. Her legs ached from running, so she sat down on the sidewalk and waited.

It seemed like an eternity before the gurney came out, and when Wendy spotted it, she felt tears spring to her eyes. The back of the gurney sat slightly up, and an open-eyed Tara was tucked safely within a tightly gathered sheet. An oxygen mask covered her face, but the doctor was very much alive. Wendy began to cry as she looked up at the sky.

"Thank you, God," she whispered as she wept. Crying seemed all she knew how to do these days. She hadn't really stopped since she blew Gemma's brains out. Crying was easier than sleeping, because horror was all she could see as she slept. She saw Wayne's face collapse as Gemma's brains splattered onto the floor. Her hands hurt like hell as she tightly gripped the gun. It was so different killing Gemma. With Eli, she felt guilt, but she did it to protect the club. With Gemma, there was no guilt.

She felt Gemma's bony hand gripping her throat while she recovered from Abel's birth. She remembered the hell she put her through. She remembered bad moment they shared. She remembered the hold she had over Jax. The strings Gemma pulled to get where she was made Wendy physically ill. She wanted more for Abel. She wanted more Jax. She wanted more for Thomas and Tara and Wayne and Nero. The only way that was going to happen was if Gemma no longer existed.

"I did what I had to do," she whispered into the night. She closed her eyes and remembered Gemma's body. She remembered the gun falling to the floor again. Hands grabbed her arms.

"C'mon mama, let's go," Nero's voice was calm as he drew her away. She looked over her shoulder. Wayne had stood by Gemma, shell-shocked at what had transpired.

"Wayne! We have to go!" Nero's voice broke his stare, and the former Charming Chief followed, dazed and confused. Together, they piled into Nero's car and sped away. He dropped Wendy back at her apartment. The plan was to take Wayne back to TM later. Once inside the familiar walls of her home, Wendy broke down. It was over, but it didn't feel over.

_That's why I came back. Every single night I came back. I knew she'd be here eventually. _Once everything had been investigated and cleaned, she went back to the house. She realized now that she needed closure with Tara to be okay. Somewhere deep down, she knew Jax's wife would be back. She just didn't expect it to be so soon.

Tara's gurney was placed in the ambulance. Wendy watched as one of the EMTs tapped the back doors of the vehicle, giving it clearance to leave. Wendy stood and watched it drive into the night. She dug into her pocket and grabbed Tara's phone. She slid it into her pocket after she'd called the ambulance. Now, she opened it and dialed out. The strange pulse of the ring flooded her ears. A familiar baritone echoed through the speaker.

"Hi, it's Wendy. I need your help. Can you come get me?" An affirmative answer made her smile. She nodded and shut the phone. Twenty minutes later, when an old car roared down the street, she knew she'd be okay. The lights were shut off as it idled. Wendy dropped the phone in the grass and walked towards the car. The guilt and agony and shock of the last few weeks faded away with every step she took towards the car. For the first time in a long time, Wendy Case was free.


	10. Chapter 10

No matter how many hours she spent at St. Thomas, Tara would never be a good patient. She knew too much about the inner workings of the hospital, but what made it even worse was the entire staff treating her like she was some sort of princess in scrubs. She hated the attention, and as she sat in the confines of the ICU, she truly realized how little she enjoyed it.

She was so tired. Her lungs ached in a way they'd never ached before. Even with oxygen pushing into her nose, she struggled to catch her breath. She'd only been there a couple of hours, but in that time, they'd run test after test. The only thing left to do was a CT scan, and it seemed like she'd been waiting for an eternity for it.

"Where is my wife?" Tara flinched as the words reverberated through the ICU's locked doors. Jax was yelling. She wondered how long they kept him waiting. Judging from his reaction, he'd probably been there for a while. The Jax Teller Tara knew didn't act like that, not without a damned good reason. Crazy, angry outbursts had always been Gemma's territory.

_Gemma. _Her name bounced over and over again within Tara. _Wendy killed Gemma. And Nero and Wayne watched. _If she could sigh, she would, but it took too much effort. _How am I going to explain this to Jax? _She didn't know how he'd react. _Will he try to find them? And if he does, will he kill them? _She didn't want that on her conscience any more than she wanted the secret of Gemma's death. It was an impossible decision to make. Her mind tried valiantly to work the way she wanted it to, but the combination of medicine and illness was too great, and her mental faculties turned to mush.

A loud crash of ICU doors filled the hallway, and Tara closed her eyes. As they snapped back open, Tara watched as her husband ran towards her. The sharp squeal of Jax's white sneakers jolted her, and she could hear the monitors jump in response. Carefully, Jax slid the half open curtain all the way back. She heard Jax's sharp intake of breath as he laid eyes on her. She turned her head towards him, a slight smile on her face.

"Mr. Teller," Jackie Kelly, one of the best ICU nurses she'd ever worked with, followed Tara's red-faced, infuriated husband. "Mr. Teller, you can't—"

"I can't what?!" The last word of the sentence was pushed through gritted teeth. The sight of her flannel wearing, hard bodied, totally exasperated husband would scare anyone. To Tara's surprise and quiet admiration, Jackie Kelly, all four feet, ten inches of her, stood her ground.

"Speak to me like that again, Teller," she said softly. Tara's eyebrows raised as she tried to suppress a grin. "I don't give a damn who you are. _Your wife, our doctor, _is sick, and if you're going to act like a stubborn ass, then I'll kick you out myself." Tara watched as Jax's eyes widened. The King of SAMCRO wasn't used to people talking to him in that way. The tiny nurse pivoted on her heel and walked off. Left alone, he turned and faced Tara.

"She's right you know. Jackie will fuck you up," she croaked with a smile. Her eyes shut, apparently of their own volition. Even talking made her tired.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she had a shank in those scrubs," Jax replied with a chuckle. His eyes filled with tears as he moved closer. There was a small chair by the bed. Jax sat and grasped Tara's hand. He couldn't fathom losing her. He was terrified of the prospect.

"Hey baby," Tara rasped. Her chest ached so much. There were a thousand possibilities as to what was wrong with her. _I haven't felt bad, _she thought. _Just tired. But I have two little boys, a dangerous biker husband, his junkie ex and crazy biker buddies, and a bitch of a monster-in-law that tried to kill me. I guess I am supposed to be tired. _

"Hey," Jax returned. "How you feeling?"

"I've had better days," Tara answered. Her thoughts wandered to Juice. Just hours ago, she was fine. She was standing in a room not far from the one she was in, and she watched as he gasped his last breath. Now, she wasn't doing much better than he had. She closed her eyes in an effort to forget the insanity this night had caused. It didn't seem real. Nothing seemed real anymore.

"I'm sure," Jax said. Carefully, he kissed her fingers. His eyes were anguished as the chill of her skin touched his lips. _Don't do this, God, _he warned. _You can't just give her back to me and take her away. That's fucked up. _

"Tara, Mr. Teller," Jax looked up to see a tall, middle-aged doctor in the doorway. His caramel skin screamed he'd just arrived back from vacation. Jax scanned him quickly, focusing on his name tag. _Elijah Parker, MD. _The name sounded intelligent and regal, and the doctor's chocolate brown eyes were kind as he surveyed Tara.

"Elijah," Tara breathed. "I didn't…realize…you were…"

"I just came on shift. I've been briefed on what happened. You were at home when this occurred, correct?"

Jax's jaw tensed as he glanced at Tara. She nodded. Confusion glazed Jax's eyes, but he didn't speak.

"The report from the EMS states someone called 911 for you, correct? You couldn't speak?"

Tara nodded once more. Thousands of questions darted through Jax's mind. _Who the hell was with you, Tara? Why were you back at the house? Why didn't you just come home? _He pinched the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb.

"Dr. Parker," Jackie Kelly's voice filled the small, confined space. "Her labs finally came in." The diminutive nurse handed Dr. Parker a stack of papers. Quickly, the handsome physician scanned the lab work. A low whistle escaped his teeth. He looked up at Jax and Tara.

"When was your last period, Tara?" Tara's brow furrowed as she thought about it. She couldn't remember the last period she had. Her heart beat wildly as she realized why the doctor was asking. Her eyes jumped to Jax, who didn't understand yet.

"I don't remember, Elijah," Tara answered candidly. "The last one I recall was probably two or three months ago, just before…"

"Just before my mother was murdered," Jax finished. "She's been dead just over a month."

"You're pregnant, Tara," Dr. Parker said quietly. Tears pricked Tara's eyes. Just before, when she and Wendy were at the house, she insisted she wasn't pregnant, and here she was, knocked up. Terror made her stomach jump. _Oh my God, _she thought. _Is this baby okay? Did Gemma hurt it? Did I? _She began to cry. Her chest ached with the effort. Jax walked over to her. His eyes were misted with tears as well. His big, rough hand stroked her hair as his tears fell. His gut told him when that baby was made. Flashbacks to that hotel room, the one where he thought he was saying goodbye to Tara for good.

_It was perfect. _Every second, every moment had been perfect…until Eli knocked on the door. Then everything as he knew changed. In the hours after, Eli and Gemma were killed, Tara was beaten, and apparently, while all the trauma was occurring, he and Tara had created a baby. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.

"I am fairly certain I know what is going on, Tara. I think you have a classic PE, possibly brought on by the pregnancy. I mean, you have risk factors. " Dr. Parker's voice shattered Jax's memories as Tara began to size herself up. _He's right, _she thought. _I'm thirty-five now. Pregnancy makes the blood thicker. _Memories of Gemma's fists and the iron plunging into her gut sprang back to life. _I'm sure that didn't help either. _

"What's a PE?" Jax questioned. "You guys forget, I don't speak doctor."

"Pulmonary embolism," Tara answered. "They happen when a blood clot travels from your leg to your lungs."

"Can they kill you?" Jax's voice was tinged with alarm. Tara nodded.

"It could kill Tara and the baby," Dr. Parker said firmly, "But I am going to do everything I can to ensure that doesn't happen." Tara nodded as Jax stared at her. A mix of fear, admiration, and love crossed his face.

"I'm going to call ultrasound to come up. I'll make it a STAT order," Elijah said. "After that, I will know what I'm working with and how much Heparin you're going to need."

"Okay," Tara replied. She was shocked. Aside from the vomiting, there'd been no indication of pregnancy. Until today, she'd felt normal. Until today, she'd been fine. She closed her eyes. _I'm pregnant. Jesus Christ. _Her mind played back her conversation with Jax from earlier.

"_Babe, are you...?" _

"_No, I'm not pregnant. But I'd like to be, once all of this is over." _

It was strange how silent prayers were answered.

"Dr. Knowles?" a young, pretty ultrasound tech poked her head into the room. Tara smiled broadly. She knew her from the NICU.

"Hi Emma," she whispered. Jax shook his head.

"You know everybody here, dontcha babe?" he laughed.

"I _do _work here, Teller," she fired back. Her words were breathy and weak, but the life that gleamed in her eyes was priceless. Even with the monitors and tubes, she was beautiful. And she was having his baby.

Emma pulled the ultrasound machine into the room, and Jax moved to allow her more space. He circled the bed. Now standing slightly behind her, he watched as Emma carefully exposed Tara's belly. It was still flat. She squirted the thick blue ultrasound liquid onto Tara's skin and pressed the wand on Tara's belly. Immediately, a tiny blip illuminated the screen. Emma quietly scanned and took measurements as Tara and Jax were transfixed by the life lighting up before them.

"There's the heartbeat," Emma said quietly. "I'm going to get a couple more measurements, and then I'll print out the pictures." Jax looked down at Tara, and fear consumed him. _I can't fucking believe this. _His heart ached with joy while his twisted mind brought him crashing into reality. _And what if you're in prison for this one too? How is she going to do this alone? _

"Oh my God," Tara gasped. Jax blinked and looked down at her with concern.

"Are you hurting, Tara? Are you okay?" Tara nodded and turned her head towards him. Her hazel eyes locked with his blue ones, and he saw the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"What is it, babe? What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mr. Teller," Emma answered. Tara was grateful for it. She was too amazed to speak. Tara extended a tired, weakened hand towards Jax's face. The touch was so gentle, it sent shivers down his spine. Once her hand grazed his cheek, she gently turned her husband's face back to the monitor. At first, he didn't understand why Tara did that, but as Emma pushed the ultrasound wand over his wife's belly, he immediately got it.

He couldn't look away. As much as he wanted to stare down at Tara's beautiful face, he couldn't tear his eyes from the images on the screen. He couldn't breathe, much less move, and as he felt a waterfall of tears flow down his cheeks, he realized how blessed he truly was.

"Jesus Christ, babe," he whispered.

"I know, Jackson," Tara whispered back. "We're having twins."


End file.
